Chuck versus the False Alarm
by KuryakinGirl
Summary: Every time a GPS tracker is activated--whether intentional or not--Casey has to manually turn it off. Sequel to Chuck versus the Paranoia.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer—Recognizable characters belong to Chris Fedak and Josh Schwartz. No copyright infringement intended. Any similarity to events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Author's Notes—Many thanks to the amazingly "awesome" Brandywine00 for the beta, encouragement, and general Casey-drooling. And to wonderful Chuck online community for following me along a wild ride with Chuck versus the Paranoia. Here's another mission-fic. Hope y'all enjoy it. :)

Spoilers—General knowledge through Season 3. Specifics in Chuck versus Operation Awesome. AU, since Ellie knows Casey's NSA.

Chuck versus the False Alarm—Every time a GPS tracker is activated--whether intentional or not--Casey has to manually turn it off. Sequel to Chuck versus the Paranoia.

* * *

He crept through the window, his combat boots surprisingly silent as he crossed the floor. The form on the bed snored evenly, deeply, completely oblivious to the armed man methodically checking the room.

Satisfied that nothing would interrupt him, he slid the black SIG Sauer into the back waistband of his blue jeans. With a quiet sigh, he lifted the watch with its red blinking light from the nightstand. For the life of him, he wanted to throw it onto the ground and stomp it into submission. Unfortunately, it had been funded with taxpayer dollars and his patriot heart just couldn't willingly destroy it.

He removed a small hand-held device from his jeans pocket, aimed it at the watch and pressed a button, stopping the infernal alarm.

John Casey eased it back on the nightstand. He looked at the Intersect, Chuck Bartowski, who slept soundly. He wasn't sure if that was something he should be envious of or if he needed to pummel the kid for it.

As it was, he was tired, cranky, and had a long day of protecting the nation ahead of him. Shaking his head, he escaped through the same window he'd entered, moving towards his apartment in the dawning light.

His calm was short-lived as the crunch of approaching footsteps reached his ears. He fell into a defensive posture immediately, his right hand at the ready to pull his weapon.

The figure that rounded the corner wore sneakers and scrubs, with her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, her purse slung over her shoulder. She was fumbling through the various keys, trying to find the one that would unlock her apartment.

He eased slightly at the sight of Chuck's sister. "Ellie."

She looked up. "John."

He couldn't help but notice the dark circles under her eyes, the way exhaustion seemed to permeate through her very soul, from her stooping shoulders to her lowered chin. All her weight shifted from one foot to the other.

"Didn't figure you'd be up this early," she said, abandoning her key search.

"Security never sleeps."

She offered him a slight smile. "Must get old."

This particular night had been excruciating, given that Chuck's watch had been issuing false alarms for the past several hours. But, she didn't need to know any of the details. "It's all right."

"I know it gets old," she said softly, distantly.

He tilted his head to one side curiously. "Are you okay, Ellie?"

There was a softness to his voice, a genuine concern. Why didn't Devon ask questions like that? "Can I ask you something?"

"Depends," he said, taking a step towards her. "Are you gonna answer my question?"

She bit her lower lip briefly. "Who protects you?" Off his confused expression, she took another step closer to him. Her voice was lower when she spoke again. "I mean, I know who you are, what you are. You're a protector. Like me. I always tried to look after Chuck, to make sure he grew up at least somewhat normally. To look out for his best interests, over my own. When you need five minutes, just to regroup, to be vulnerable... Who looks after you?"

Casey hesitated. "You want to come inside for a minute? We'll get some coffee?"

She nodded.

While he wasn't keen on having this conversation _at all_, he certainly didn't want to discuss it in the public courtyard area of the apartment complex. And, by the time they entered his apartment, by the time he made coffee, he would've sufficiently bought himself a few minutes to get his head together to respond to her.

He finished unlocking his apartment, welcoming her inside. "Have a seat," he said, nodding towards the couch in the living room. He moved towards the kitchen, his mind reeling as he worked on brewing a fresh pot.

Ellie didn't sit, not at first. She looked at the airplanes on the low shelf along the wall beneath his television. She looked at the framed tri-folded flag, assuming that must've been the flag that had brought his father home, to his final resting place.

She spotted the blanket haphazardly spread on the couch, the pillows piled up at one end. He'd been sleeping there? Wordlessly, she redistributed the still-warm pillows on both sides and folded the blanket, draping it over the back. She let her fingers wander over the soft quilting. Her guess was that it had been hand-done. Maybe by his mother or a grandmother?

Fighting a sigh, she eased onto the couch, setting her purse and keys on the floor at her feet. She looked to the kitchen, watching as Casey busied himself with process of coffee making. He put the coffee grounds and filters back away. He grabbed two coffee mugs from the tree. From the refrigerator, he pulled a small container of cream.

She watched as he rested his fists on the counter, leaning forward slightly, watching his coffee pot. It was then that she realized there was a subtle bulge at the small of his back, beneath his tee shirt.

_Security never sleeps_.

"I'm okay, by the way," she said.

He turned, glancing back at her. "You sure?"

She nodded. "I just keep thinking."

"About what?" he asked.

"About a lot of things," she admitted. "About San Francisco. About Devon. About life in general."

Casey nodded slowly. "What about them?"

"Well, I don't want to tell Devon about what happened any more."

While that was good for the overall situation, he wasn't entirely sure it was good for her personal situation. "Why's that?" he asked as the thick, dark brew finished percolating. He filled both mugs, adding cream to hers, before joining her in the living room.

"Because, I don't know about Devon anymore."

Casey held the mug out to her, which she took, wrapping both hands around it. Why on earth was she talking to him about this? To prevent any considerations on anyone's part that there might be improprieties going on, he opened the living room's curtains, letting the early morning sunshine into the room. "What's not to know?" he asked, taking a seat on an arm chair, across the living room from her.

She blew across the top of the steaming mug. "He's been different, John. He's saying things, doing things... He's never been a particularly good liar, which I've always found comforting. But, lately, he keeps lying. He keeps trying to put things past me."

"Are you sure it's not just that you're under stress from San Francisco?" he asked as casually as he could.

"I've thought that, but..." She shook her head. "Do you remember, gosh, seems like ages ago now, when Devon and I, and Chuck and Sarah, went to that consulate party?"

Casey managed a grunt. How could he forget? Getting shot, getting his blood stolen from him... "Yeah."

"And then he went missing. And I went, I'll admit, kinda crazy."

Casey nodded.

"Well, the story he came up with, the story Chuck helped him come up with... I realize now that there's just no way it was possible."

"What'd they say?" he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

She winced. "That you'd gotten arrested for public intoxication and indecent exposure."

He choked, burning the roof of his mouth. He set his coffee cup on the table between them. Once he recovered, his blue eyes met hers. "They said that, huh?"

"Yeah," she said quietly. "Knowing what I know about you now... John, there's no way. That'd be 'conduct unbecoming' or something, wouldn't it?"

"To say the least," he acknowledged.

"So, it begs the question... what are they hiding? Why would Chuck defend Devon? I mean, I understand that there's a 'bro-code' or whatever, but when do I get to be protected? When does someone stand up for me?"

_If only you knew,_ he thought.

She sighed, calming down slightly. "Which, was why I asked, who protects you."

Casey rested his elbows on his knees. "Well, I have a partner who watches my back," he admitted.

"Is that too much to ask for? For me, I mean. I just want someone who's honest with me. And the fact that the person most honest with me in this whole building is you, I mean, that's kinda telling, don't you think?"

He offered a cautious half-smile. "I'm not sure I'd go that far."

She scrunched up her nose. "Well, Morgan does live here now, too, doesn't he?"

"Ellie, have you told Devon that you feel this way?"

She shook her head.

"Maybe you should."

"Do you think it's unreasonable?"

"I'm... I'll be honest. I'm not sure why you're coming to me with relationship questions. I'm pretty much, y'know, set in my bachelor ways..."

"You're in a relationship," she said. "With your country, with your job. You eat, sleep and breathe it. I know. In four days spent up the coast with you, I know that. And you told me you'd been in this job for years." She gave a slight shrug. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, John, you're the only person I know who's been in a relationship that's lasted a significant amount of time."

"I'm not sure I'd call it that. I think I'd call it following orders." She had such a visceral reaction to his last sentence, he wasn't sure what happened. The look on her face was like she'd been slapped. "Ellie?" he asked, alarmed.

"Maybe I am talking to the wrong person."

"What did I say?" Mentally, he replayed the last bit of their conversation. He didn't think he'd said anything untoward, anything that would've intentionally upset her.

She shook her head, putting her mug on the table and getting to her feet. "It's not something you said. It's something Devon said."

Casey stood as well, holding a hand out, to keep her from leaving just yet. "What did he tell you?"

She retrieved her belongings, her face contorting at the memory. "That I needed to 'obey' him. Because that was part of our vows."

He frowned. "That doesn't really sound like Devon."

"It doesn't, does it? It was a very un-awesome thing to say. Between that, lying to me about you, about where he was..."

He rubbed at the back of his neck. Devon had lied to her because he'd been kidnapped by the Ring. The rest of the behavior, though, seemed uncharacteristic. "Maybe it's not as bad as you think."

"I dunno anymore," she admitted. "All I know is that I'm tired."

"You did just work all night. Maybe things will look better after you've slept."

She nodded, but she just wasn't sure. "Thanks, John."

"I didn't do anything."

She looked up at him. "You listened."

He listened, sure, but he continued to perpetuate the lies, the lies she clearly knew were lingering, hovering over the Bartowski extended family like a thick, dark cloud. While he was better at covering his tracks than Devon and Chuck, he was hurting her the same way they were. "Sleep well, Ellie," he said.

She didn't look away, continuing to search his blue eyes. It was like she saw the walls come up, brick by brick. He hid the truth, whatever it was, in a fortress so safe no one would find it. "See you later, John."

He nodded, walking her to his front door.

She emerged into the courtyard, crossing towards her apartment. When she reached the fountain in the center, she looked back, to see him still framed in the open door, watching her. She smiled a little, tiredly, before continuing on.

Casey could feel a headache building. This day was going to be the perfect follow-up to his night.

* * *

As he disembarked from his flight, he kept his carry-on close. His green eyes warily glanced around. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd been told to do this particular task. It wasn't within the normal scope of his duties.

But, when he was told to do something, he did it.

His job was his livelihood.

He just hated the fact that he'd had to fly to L.A. unprotected. Sure, security was a pain in the ass, but that didn't necessarily mean he was safe. He wished he could've smuggled a gun on board. A pocket knife. Something. He didn't like feeling exposed.

Making his way to the luggage return, he waited impatiently for his suitcase. He wanted to get into his rental car and leave. As the pieces slowly started coming off the conveyor belt, he moved closer, looking for his black Samsonite with the brown leather tag. It would be coming off at any moment. Any time now. The suitcases started tumbling faster, in larger clumps. He still didn't see his, however.

Oh, that would be perfect, just his luck, if his luggage had somehow not made it to Los Angeles.

In his excitement over his luggage, he failed to notice someone coming up behind him, invading his space, until he heard a sneering voice in his ear: "Welcome to L.A., Mr. Jennings."

* * *

Chuck breezed into the Buy More in his Nerd Herd attire. The moment he stepped through the open doors, the security alarms began to blare. He stopped immediately. No one had been leaving. He was coming in. How could he set off the alarms just walking in the door?

"Bartowski!" thundered the booming voice of manager Big Mike.

"I didn't do it," Chuck said.

"Can you fix it?"

"Well, I guess I can try," he said. "How long has it been going off?"

Chuck's best friend and roommate, Morgan Grimes, approached with a pair of earplugs. "You'll need these," he said, holding them out to Chuck, who graciously accepted them.

"I'm guessing all morning then, huh?"

"Doesn't seem to matter if people are coming in, going out, or there's nobody there at all," Big Mike said, huffing a sigh.

"Has somebody been messing with it?" Chuck asked.

Lester Patel, a fellow Nerd Herder, leaned against one of the checkout counters. "I'm thinking it's solar flares combined with the hole in the ozone layer. Global warming."

Lester's cohort in crime, Jeff Barnes, shook his head. "My money's on gremlins."

"No. No way, guys. No more conspiracy theories," Morgan said, vividly remembering a hellish weekend not that long ago. He shooed them back towards the Nerd Herd desk. "Back to work, huh? Get moving."

* * *

Sarah Walker glanced up as she heard familiar heavy footfalls on the stairwell. Her partner looked particularly thrilled this morning. "Hey, Casey."

He merely grunted.

She assumed everything was normal, because that was pretty much on par for morning rapport with her partner. "So, nothing really new. Been reviewing the intel around L.A. CIA says a weapons designer is pulling through town, but the team tasked to apprehending him will be at his final destination. The Ring cells continue to be quiet, which is troubling, to say the least."

"What do we know about the GPS emergency beacon system?" he asked as he tossed his black backpack on the conference table.

She looked up. "From the watches?"

Casey nodded.

"It works. What else do we need to know?"

"It didn't work last night. Bartowski's watch went off every thirty minutes. Didn't get a damned bit of sleep."

Sarah frowned. "Well, I'll get Chuck to look at it when he comes in. You want to head back home?"

He shook his head. "We got bigger problems."

"Oh?"

"Ellie and Devon are having issues."

Sarah arched an eyebrow. "I thought you were only listening in on Chuck's apartment."

He bristled at the implication that he was doing something improperly. "I am. But I wound up inviting Ellie in for coffee this morning and got an earful of issues after spending all night in the wild goose chase with Chuck's watch."

Her eyebrows did more than arch; they drifted clear up her forehead. "You and Ellie had... coffee...?"

He was starting to reevaluate whether or not his partner had his back like he thought. He went on the defensive. "She started talking about my job, my real job, in the courtyard. I wasn't about to carry on that conversation there."

"How does someone with marital problems affect us, exactly?" Sarah asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"When Devon was taken by the Ring, he made up some bogus story--about me--to cover for it. Ellie believed it until my cover was blown. Now, given the volatile nature of the Intersect, this has the potential to rock the boat enough that Chuck's internal programming goes haywire, which is not something we can afford with the Ring being suspiciously quiet."

"You think they're planning something?"

"I never think they _aren't._"

"What do we do about Devon and Ellie?"

"I don't know," Casey admitted with a sigh.

Sarah was quiet for a moment. "Maybe we have a sit-down with Devon and Chuck? Let them know that Ellie's suspicious about them? Tell them to step up their game?"

"Chuck's becoming a better spy. But, can we teach Woodcomb to be 'awesome'?"

"It's worth a shot," Sarah said, moving towards one of the computers. She punched a few keys, bringing up Devon's work schedule for the week. "Looks like he's got open-heart surgery all afternoon. Maybe we can meet with them after."

Casey nodded. "In the meantime... Get Chuck down here to work on the damned GPS emergency system."

Sarah hit a few more keystrokes. "He's up at the Buy More."

He took a slow breath. Of all the places he wanted to be that morning, retail hell wasn't one of them. Sneering, he charged back up the stairs. He'd go get the geek himself.

* * *

Chuck tinkered with the security sensors. While the earplugs were helpful, they still weren't able to prevent the pulsing pain building in his temples. It made him anxious as he poked around the open access panel. As he eased tweezers towards a green wire, the entire setup shook and the sound, mercifully, stopped.

He bounced up, thrilled that the prospect of just _threatening_ the machine had done wonders. It had even trembled in fear at the unstoppable force that was Chuck Bartowski, Nerd Herd Supervisor, also known as the super spy Charles Carmichael. His face fell slightly when he saw Casey standing in the middle of the open door. "You hit it, didn't you? Just slapped it around a little. Y'know, I really don't think that's the best way to go about fixing things--"

"You up for some yogurt?"

"John Casey! I like that. Showin' it who's boss. Nice work, son," Big Mike said with an appreciative nod.

Casey merely grunted.

"Taking the big hero for a cup of fro-yo, Big Mike, be right back," Chuck said, removing the earplugs.

"Don't wander far," Big Mike called before disappearing into his office.

Chuck easily kept up with Casey's long strides across the parking lot towards the Orange Orange. "Seriously, Casey, do you ever do anything with finesse? Sometimes it doesn't take a heavy hand to accomplish something."

"How do you think you're still alive?" Casey said, looking over at the Intersect.

"Okay, who spit in your Wheaties this morning? Was it Morgan? 'Cause, you know, you really should learn to lock up your breakfast cereals when the bearded one is hungry..."

Casey narrowed his eyes at his charge. "We've got to up your training."

"C'mon. How am I supposed to keep an eye on Morgan when I'm supposed to be helping save the world on a daily basis?" he asked as Casey opened the door to the empty yogurt shop.

"I'm not talking about your roommate, Bartowski. I'm talking about you," Casey said, stopping once they were safely alone inside the dining room of the shop.

"What did I do?" Chuck asked, thoroughly lost.

"You slept through a potential danger a dozen times in the night."

"And what danger was that?"

"A highly-trained, heavily-armed killer broke into your room not once. Twelve times."

Chuck's eyes grew large. "What! Casey! Why didn't you stop him? Clearly, there were multiple opportunities for you to use your gun!"

"Because, _idiot_, it was me."

Chuck stood there, momentarily dumbfounded.

Casey rolled his eyes, moving towards the back room of the Orange Orange, to head down to the Castle.

Speedily, Chuck caught up to him. He did manage to think better of it before grabbing a hold of the NSA agent's arm, however. "What the hell were you doing breaking into my room?"

"Seems we've got a short somewhere in the emergency tracking system. Your watch decided you were in trouble while you were snoring. Buy More losing a little merchandise won't do much harm in the long run. My lack of sleep, however, could cause you to be in a world of pain. So, fix this, Bartowski."

Chuck sighed heavily, following Casey down the metal stairs into the CIA-funded base. The only remote ray of sunshine in Chuck's now dim morning was seated at the computer, her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing the powder blue Orange Orange sweatshirt and capri pants. He smiled, ever so slightly, at Sarah.

* * *

Stay Tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

Devon stood, taking a slow breath. "What would you do? About Ellie? I'm sure you're aware of the entire situation. You never seem to be without all the information... I'm in real trouble here."

Who had he become, Dear Abby? "For starters, you aren't bleeding. Or on fire. You're in real _personal_ trouble. And I'm not exactly qualified to handle that; that's why I sent you to work with Walker."

"That's how I _got_ in this new mess, Casey. I missed dinner with the missus. She didn't take too kindly to that."

Casey looked longingly at his apartment door then back at Devon. "Ellie is..." How could he describe her? "Ellie's a creature of habit. She likes things a certain way. When things don't turn out the way she expects, she has a tendency to react on a very emotional, very personal level. She's also a smart lady. So your being devious is upsetting to her."

"How is protecting Chuck 'devious'?" he asked, offended.

"You're _lying_ to her. And she _knows _it. What would you call that?"


	2. Chapter 2

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Casey has a rough night, chasing down Chuck's errant watch alarms followed by an eye-opening conversation with Ellie. The Ring seems to be uncharacteristically quiet. A certain Mr. Jennings arrives in L.A.

* * *

"Welcome back," Lester said into his closed fist, his head popping up above an aisle.

Jeff soon appeared beside him, speaking into his own closed fist: "And thank you for joining us in our journey through the wilds of Africa."

Lester moved stealthily behind the Guitar Hero display, angling for a better look at one John Casey, sitting on top of a chest freezer, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Today's subject: the mountain gorilla, also known as the _gorilla beringei beringei_. Here we find the alpha male, the big gorilla on campus... the silverback. Note the muscular arms, the massive chest. Also, the broad hands and feet are indicative of this particular breed."

"Did you know that the silverback gorilla is ten times stronger than the biggest American football players?"

Lester frowned, lowering his hand. "Y'know, I just can't see it. I mean, John Casey, yes, he's, clearly, a badass, but I'm not sure. You put him up against the Saints defensive line? I'm thinking he'd be trampled to a resounding chorus of 'Who Dat!'"

"I wouldn't go that far. Casey's got a pretty good stiff-arm."

"Yes, but one man? Against the entire Saints defensive line? C'mon! They're Super Bowl champs."

"Casey won the sales bowl that weekend."

Lester grimaced. "That's only because people don't buy computers for the big game. They buy Beastmaster grills and big-screen TVs. Hardly our fault."

"Green isn't your color," Jeff intoned.

Lester immediately looked at his clothes. He eased when he saw the skinny tie, white oxford, and pocket protector. Sighing, he looked back up at Jeff. "You had me scared there for a second."

"I meant _jealousy_."

"Me?" scoffed Lester. "Jealous of that... that muscle-bound cretin? Please. What's he got that I don't?"

"Over six feet of height. A scar. Chicks dig scars. And--" Before Jeff could finish, he found himself face-first in the Mass Effect 2 display.

"Bionic hearing," Casey provided, shoving Lester out of the way as well. "Morons," he grunted, making his way towards the front of the store.

Devon Woodcomb entered in a pair of faded jeans and a tan polo shirt. He nodded when he spotted Casey. "Hey, bro."

While he'd allowed his gut to control his reactions when he'd found Lester and Jeff, he carefully kept his cool around the surgeon. "You're needed at the Orange Orange."

The doctor's usually cheerful expression became somewhat fearful. "I thought were were pretty clear, I'm done with the whole spy thing," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You're done with the 'mission thing.' As long as you're privy to the top-secret information, you'll never be done with the 'spy thing.' Walker's got a lesson or two for you and your brother-in-law."

"You aren't coming?"

Casey sneered. "Trust me. You wouldn't want me over there."

Devon nodded. "Well, all right then. Orange Orange it is."

* * *

He wasn't sure there was any part of his body left that didn't hurt. He wasn't sure there was any part of his body that wasn't coated in blood or sweat, or some combination of the two. There was a terrible ringing sensation in his ears, and he could feel his pulse in his hands, legs, as well as his head, throbbing behind his bloodshot eyes.

"Mercy, huh? How 'bout mercy," he mumbled.

"How 'bout you tell us about your new weapon, Mr. Jennings."

"I don't... I don't know what you're talking about," he said, shaking his head. He winced, realizing the shaking motion only served to increase his headache.

"Here's the thing. The sooner you spill what information you got locked up here," the bald-headed man said, poking his captive's head with two fingers, "the sooner we stop spilling your blood everywhere else. Simple choice. Live or die. It's entirely up to you."

"But, I don't know anything!"

"Then, you've got problems, friend."

* * *

Chuck looked up from the computer when Devon and Sarah entered the Castle. "Hey, guys. What's with... not that it's not great to see you, Awesome, but what's with Awesome?" Chuck asked, glancing at Sarah.

"It's come to our attention that you guys might need a refresher when it comes to certain cover protocols," Sarah began diplomatically.

"Cover protocols?" Devon mouthed, looking curiously at Chuck, who shrugged.

Sarah motioned for Devon to sit, and he took a chair next to Chuck. "When you were taken by the Ring, Devon, you told Ellie a story when you got back..."

Devon winced. "Yeah, the bear story was not my greatest maneuver ever, I admit."

"Neither was the follow up," she said, looking at Chuck.

"We were on the spot. If I'd known how badly Devon wouldn't be able to lie, I would've started the story--"

"She went to Casey about it," Sarah said, watching as the brothers-in-law slowly looked at each other. "She doesn't believe it."

"So, where does this put me?" Devon asked. "Besides in more marital hot water."

Sarah shrugged. "Pretty much just there."

Panic crossed Devon's features. "Oh, God, what do I do?"

"Any story you offer now might be seen as disingenuous."

"That's the last thing I want to come across as," Devon said, resting his head in his hands.

"Don't worry, buddy, I'm sure it'll all work itself out," Chuck said.

"Casey's assessment of the situation this morning was that it was probably just sleep deprivation, combined with work stress as well as the home stress." Sarah carefully left out that there was also that little fact that Ellie knew who Casey really was.

"Hey, I know," Chuck said, pipping up. "How 'bout you guys take that Paris trip? Get outta the country for a while, have that honeymoon you never had, get everything smoothed over. That'd take care of Ellie's lack of sleep _and_ stress."

Devon winced. "Just one problem with that, bro."

"What's that?"

"I told her we couldn't go."

"What! Why? Why on Earth would you do that? Do you have any idea how many strings I had to pull to _get_ those tickets?" Chuck asked.

"That's exactly my point," began Devon. "There are strings attached to those tickets. I don't want you to have to pull strings for us."

"Where are the tickets now, Devon?" Sarah asked.

"Put 'em in the safety deposit box at the bank. I wasn't sure what else to do with them."

"Well, go get them. Go get them, go get packing, take Ellie to Paris for crying out loud. And enjoy the Eiffel Tower for me, 'cause I really wanted to see it in person instead of... y'know..." He made a swooping airplane movement with his hand.

"I don't think I can just change my mind, not without raising her suspicions further."

"How hard can it be to take back your initial reaction to the tickets?" asked Chuck.

"Really hard."

"Devon, c'mon. It's easy." He got to his feet. "I'll be you, okay? Sarah, be Ellie." He stood a little straighter, messing with his hair slightly. He clicked his tongue and winked at Sarah while "shooting" at her with his finger guns. "'Babe, changed my mind 'bout that trip to Paris," Chuck began in his best "Awesome" voice. "What do you say? I say you, me, and the Arc de Triomphe will be _le awesome_!'"

"No, Chuck, you don't understand," Devon interrupted. "I said... I said I forbid us from going."

Chuck practically deflated. "You told my sister... you forbid it?"

Devon gave a shrugging nod.

"Not cool, bro. Not cool at all."

"Yeah, she wasn't very happy that day either," Devon said, remembering Ellie's expression.

Sarah sighed. "This may take more than one brainstorming session to fix."

All three sets of eyes looked up to see the alert flash on the screens at the front of the room. "Oh, no," Chuck muttered, immediately moving forward to the computer, to try to cease the infernal beeping of the alarm.

"What's going on?" Devon asked, watching as an identification photo of Chuck appeared on the screen, followed by GPS coordinates.

"Seriously, what is with you?" Chuck asked the computer. "I didn't hit the button. I'm not in any danger." As his fingers flew across the keyboard, he called over his shoulder. "How likely is it, y'think, that Casey's going to be here and pissed off?" By the time he finished asking his question, the door from the Orange Orange slammed open.

Casey stood at the top of the stairs, winded, but with his gun drawn. "Bartowski!" he barked.

"I'm fixing it; I'm fixing it!" Chuck called.

* * *

Devon took a deep, centering breath before he unlocked the apartment door and let himself in. He was bombarded with scents first. Garlic. Italian herbs. Roasted tomatoes. His guess, her spaghetti, with homemade sauce and meatballs.

She was on the couch, watching the television.

"Hey, babe..." he ventured.

"Devon." She didn't look up.

He took a moment to glance around and spotted, yes, the spaghetti dish still on the table. Along with one dirty plate and one clean one. "Dinner smells great," he said hopefully.

She clicked the television off, standing. She was already in her scrubs, ready for another day at work. "You were supposed to have been home over an hour ago."

"I had to stop by and see Chuck..."

"Chuck?"

He nodded. Sarah and Chuck both thought he'd have better luck lying if he stuck with non-verbal communication.

"You couldn't have called me? Told me you were going to be late?"

"I... I didn't think--"

"No! You don't think!"

"Ellie, wait--"

"No, Devon. You didn't think the last time you just vanished either. It's becoming quite the habit for you. Do I rank at all in your decision-making process? Anywhere at all?"

"Of course you do, babe--"

The use of the pet name only served to infuriate her further. "Before or after _bungee jumping_?"

His mind flew to Sarah's rule number two: when you can't lie, divert. "Honey, I've been in surgery all afternoon. I'm beat."

"Not 'beat' enough to stop by and see Chuck before coming home."

"I'm sorry, Ellie, I didn't come straight home, but I didn't think it was going to be that big of a deal..."

The simmering pot that was Ellie's temper began to boil over. Rather than exploding outward at him, however, she grabbed her purse and her car keys.

"Where are you going?"

"Work," she said, determinedly walking past him.

"Your shift doesn't start till midnight."

"Guess I'll find something to do in the meantime," she spat, exiting into the courtyard.

Devon moved to follow her. "Don't be like this, Ellie."

"Be like what?" she asked, stopping to look back at him. "Like you? Are you going to _forbid_ that, too?"

He just stopped. He remembered sage words from her father from a year ago. It was best to let her go, to let her cool down, as much as he wanted to chase after her. "I'm sorry, Ellie."

"It doesn't cut it anymore, Devon," she said icily. She turned, spotting Morgan lingering in the shadows near the mailboxes.

He pretended not to have noticed what was going on, and she let him.

Before she left the courtyard, she cast one brief glance towards Casey's darkened apartment.

Morgan slowly moved towards the fountain. "You all right, Cap'n?"

"It's been a long day, Morgan," he said with a sigh.

"Yeah..."

* * *

It was becoming a broken record, listening to him tell the same _lies_ over and over again. When would he get it through his head that the sooner he told the truth, the sooner it would all be over. The sooner he told the truth, the sooner the pain would end. Whenever he chose to clear the air would be the precise moment the unbearable torture would end.

"I... don't know.... _anything_," he breathed in desperation.

After hours of this, his captors were finally starting to believe him. But, how could it be?

Grant Keller frowned deeply, rubbing his bald head. The intel had been spot on. Stanley Jennings, weapons designer, was flying in from Dallas, before renting a car and driving to Sacramento, in an attempt to throw off anyone who might've been after the weaponry.

But, he'd intercepted the itinerary. And he was certain he had the scientist strapped to the chair. So, how was it possible that he didn't know about his own weapon?

* * *

Devon looked at his watch as he sat on one of the patio chairs in the courtyard. It was nearing ten PM. Ellie wasn't scheduled to be at work yet and she hadn't called or anything. This could be, technically, an emergency, couldn't it? I mean, his marriage was on the line. And, clearly, the CIA and the NSA had some kind of interest in keeping it together.

He thought the better of it and decided not to hit the button on the side of his watch twice.

It wasn't long before Casey finally arrived home, his backpack slung over one shoulder, moving directly towards his apartment. He'd spotted Devon sitting outside but he hadn't bothered to acknowledge his presence. He was tired; he wanted to get some sleep.

"Hey, big guy," Devon said.

Casey closed his eyes, unable to prevent the annoyed grunt from emerging.

"You got a minute?"

He could be courteous. Somewhat. "Only just."

Devon stood, taking a slow breath. "What would you do? About Ellie? I'm sure you're aware of the entire situation. You never seem to be without all the information... I'm in real trouble here."

Who had he become, Dear Abby? "For starters, you aren't bleeding. Or on fire. You're in real _personal_ trouble. And I'm not exactly qualified to handle that; that's why I sent you to work with Walker."

"That's how I _got_ in this new mess, Casey. I missed dinner with the missus. She didn't take too kindly to that."

Casey looked longingly at his apartment door then back at Devon. "Ellie is..." How could he describe her? "Ellie's a creature of habit. She likes things a certain way. When things don't turn out the way she expects, she has a tendency to react on a very emotional, very personal level. She's also a smart lady. So your being devious is upsetting to her."

"How is protecting Chuck 'devious'?" he asked, offended.

"You're _lying_ to her. And she _knows _it. What would you call that?"

Devon nervously glanced away briefly. "Protecting Chuck," he repeated.

He sighed. "It's been a long day, Devon, and I'm tired. Work with Walker on this tomorrow, all right?"

The younger man nodded. "Thanks anyway, Casey."

* * *

She balanced on one foot, stretching out the other before switching back again. It had been a long day already and she still had a few more hours before she could call it a night, literally. The graveyard shift at Westide Medical could be either very good or very bad. It depended on the lunar cycle, the various professional sports schedules, and her luck. As it was, this night had been slow by normal standards. Only a few of the "regulars" had wandered in with their hypochondriac complaints. There weren't many gunshot wounds or stabbings. All in all, it wasn't a bad night to be at the Emergency Room.

"I swear, Dr. Woodcomb, you're making too much noise over there," said the round-faced nurse at the station with a grin.

"Sometimes, Mandy, you just can't help it," Ellie returned with a smile of her own.

"I tell you, I'd kill for a month of these kinda nights, though."

Ellie closed the chart she'd been looking at. "Knock on wood." She was working nights for another week herself.

Mandy was about to open her mouth, to say something else, when the ambulance-only doors burst open.

They hadn't received a radio call, and the paramedics always gave the triage staff a head's up with whatever was coming. Ellie turned, ready to do what was necessary for the patient but also to ream out some greenhorn ambulance driver. Fear threatened to consume her as she saw half a dozen men enter, all with sub-machine guns and body armor.

"Doc," called one of the men, a bald-headed guy with a sickening smile. "Just what we need. Got somebody needs your help here."

Two other men half-carried, half-dragged a bloodied and beaten man into the triage room, hoisting him onto a cot.

Ellie licked her lips, managing to cross the floor to the patient. As she did so, she hit the button on the left side of her watch twice.

* * *

Casey rubbed at his face, hearing the incessant beep from his computer across the room. Groaning, he slowly pushed himself to sit up before getting to his feet. It was becoming beyond ridiculous.

He was just going to take the damned watch from the moron.

Narrowing his eyes to try to focus on the screen through his sleep-blurred vision, he saw that the red alert was, again, coming from one of the GPS watches that was part of the Intersect project. Double-clicking on the alert, he fully expected the problem to be coming from just across the courtyard.

He was suddenly sobered, awake. The GPS indicated the problem was across town, at Westside Medical Center. "Ellie," he breathed.

He'd fallen asleep on the couch in his blue jeans and a black tee shirt, with his boots, given his trips back and forth across the courtyard the past night. All he needed to do was grab his car keys, his cell phone, his government-issue SIG Sauer P229, and a jacket before heading out into the night. As he rushed to his car, the NSA agent thought about alerting his CIA partner. Given the insane hour, the heavy mission load they'd been carrying, as well as the high probability that this was yet another false alarm, he opted to give her an uninterrupted evening, if he could.

He slid behind the wheel of his prized Crown Victoria.

* * *

The ER had become a guarded base. Doors to the exterior as well as further into the hospital were all manned by at least one heavily-armed person. The few patients that had been awaiting test results and follow-ups with the doctors were sequestered into exam rooms, with the admitting team and a handful of nurses.

Ellie focused on the task at hand, determined to think only about the steps, about the process for saving the man's life. Instead of having a nurse assist her, one of her fellow doctors, Scott Harris, had that honor. If she thought she was having a difficult time doing what needed to be done, it was nothing compared to Scott, whose hands trembled so violently he was almost more of a hindrance than a help.

"C'mon, Scotty, I need a little help," Ellie murmured. "Keep the pressure up."

He glanced up at her, then past her, at the men with the guns milling about. He was sweating profusely, even in his latex gloves. He was having a hard time gripping anything. "How do you do that? How can you just... We could die."

She didn't want to tell him that they might still if they didn't save the man on the table between them. She couldn't tell him, either, that she'd been at ground zero for one gun fight already in the year. "Just keep working," Ellie told him. "Focus on the work." It was the same principal that Casey had taught her in San Francisco. Mind over matter. She'd rather be thinking about baking, about time on the beach. But, thinking about the steps required to try to save the man's life, to do her job, worked just as well.

The only stray thought she allowed was that she hoped Casey and his promised cavalry would arrive soon.

* * *

Chuck had said it had been fixed. That there would be no further false readings. At least he'd been able to grab two solid hours before the alert had been issued.

The hospital seemed normal when Casey arrived. He parked near the main entrance instead of the Emergency Room entrance. He knew the ER admitting clerks were nearly impossible to get past and he also knew how to access the back of the ER from the main building. It would be much easier to slip past security, to talk to Ellie directly, then go home and get some more sleep.

The information desk was empty when he entered. While visiting hours were technically over, there were typically family members staying with patients, and they wandered in and out at all hours.

He headed in the most direct route possible to the Emergency Room.

He slowed his gait, however, when he turned a corner and it seemed devoid of all patients or personnel. He'd been in Westside enough to know what was typical and what wasn't. The empty nurses' station and the burning coffee in the bottom of the pot in the waiting area indicated something was amiss.

That was when he spotted him.

One guy, standing guard at the back entrance of the ER. Combat boots, green fatigues, body armor and a MAC-10.

He slid into an empty patient room, closing his eyes. Ellie really was in trouble.

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

"What's going on?"

Sarah looked up as he descended the stairs. "I need you not to freak out."

"What? Why would I freak out?"

"Chuck, no matter what you see, you have to still be a spy, you have to focus, to let the Intersect work."

"Where's Casey?" he asked, frowning. He looked past her, at the screens. His eyes lingered on the one with Ellie's driver's license photo, blown up to an eight-by-ten. "What's Ellie got to do with this?"


	3. Chapter 3

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Additional note... I didn't realize that Robert Patrick's character was going to have the surname Keller when I wrote this. Rest assured, there is no relation. :-p

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Sarah tries to work with Devon and Chuck to resolve the Woodcomb marital woes, which backfires when he winds up late for dinner. Devon goes to Casey for advice, who isn't able to offer much. Grant Keller is trying to get weapons intel from Stanley Jennings, but isn't getting very far. In the middle of the night, the watch GPS goes off again, and this time it's Ellie's. By the time Casey arrives to check it out, he realizes she really is in trouble.

* * *

Chuck groggily attempted to find the phone, what had to be the source of the annoying ringing sound. "Yeah-huh?" he asked his alarm clock. When he realized the sound hadn't stopped, he sat up, juggling the clock. As it tumbled to the ground, he decided he'd worry about whether or not he'd need a replacement later.

He grabbed his cell phone, squinting at the photo caller ID. He nearly dropped the phone when he saw Casey's annoyed face. "Geez, big guy," he muttered, opening the phone. "Casey?"

Except, even as he opened it, it didn't stop ringing.

"What the hell?" he muttered, rubbing at his dark eyes. When he looked at the phone again, he realized it wasn't a normal telephone call. It was a distress signal. From Casey's watch.

He scrambled out of bed, attempting to call Casey, but it went straight to voice mail. As he struggled to get dressed, he called Sarah.

"Yeah?" she answered, sounding just as awake and just as winded as he was.

"Is Casey in trouble, or is it more of the same watch business?"

"Is he home?"

Chuck glanced out the window, across the courtyard. "I dunno. I mean, it looks dark but it's supposed to be. It's like..." He tilted his head at a ninety-degree angle to read the time on the alarm clock on the floor. "Three AM."

"If he doesn't answer the door, meet me at Castle."

"Yeah, okay," he said, slipping his feet into his favorite Chuck Taylors. He hung up, easing out through the window into the courtyard. He rushed to Casey's door, knocking. "C'mon, big guy, open up..." He pressed his ear to the door, to listen for any signs of movement inside. When he didn't hear any, he knocked louder. "Casey!" he called in a whisper.

When he still heard nothing, he dashed around, to see if the familiar Crown Victoria was in its parking spot. His heart sank when he realized its spot was empty.

* * *

"'Ey, boss! Look what I found poking around."

Ellie glanced up from her patient to see Casey being shoved into the triage room, his hands in the air. She fought to prevent the gasp that threatened to bubble up from her lungs.

Casey tipped his head to her ever so slightly.

Keller sighed. "Some kinda hero, huh?"

Casey's expression was stone, his eyes impassively looking at the bald leader.

"And mute," Keller asked with a chuckle, looking at the guard that had found him. "He have anything on him?"

Ellie watched cautiously, remembering well the gun from the back waistband of his jeans the morning before.

Casey had managed to ditch it in the patient room right before he'd been found.

"Just a cell phone. It's in pieces now."

Keller nodded, then moved closer, standing toe-to-toe with Casey. "Not smart, tough guy. Lemme guess, huh? Hospital security?"

Casey offered a bemused grunt.

A radio crackled to life: "Got incoming."

Keller swallowed a curse, moving towards the window to see the silent police cars make a perimeter in the parking lot. He lifted the radio to his lips, hitting the button: "Phase two."

While Keller was distracted, Casey mouthed to Ellie: "You okay?"

She nodded.

Scott looked between them. "You know him?" he hissed.

Ellie cut her eyes over at Scott, both warningly and pleadingly for him not to say anything further.

Scott looked quickly again at Casey who flexed his closed fist upwards, completing the circuit on the microphone on his watch.

"Some kinda operation you've got here," Casey said. "A dozen guys, MAC-10s... Who's the bleeder? Your leader?"

Keller slowly returned his attention to the newcomer. "Not so mute after all, huh?"

Casey shrugged. "Hard to take orders from a guy that's bleeding out, isn't it?"

"I'm in charge here," Keller said. "He's of no consequence to you."

"He's important to you. Why?"

"What's it matter?"

"Curiosity," Casey answered simply.

"Don't you know that kinda crap can get you killed?"

Casey leaned towards Keller slightly. "Hasn't happened yet."

Ellie bit the inside of her cheek--hard--at the taunt. She'd seen enough of Casey's blood in San Francisco and she had her hands full with her current patient. She didn't want him getting shot, not on her watch.

* * *

By the time Chuck arrived at Castle, Sarah was already there, her eyes scanning back and forth over several different screens. One held Casey's GPS. Another held Ellie's. A third had security footage from outside Westside Medical, where the Los Angeles Police Department was putting up a barricade. A fourth had the interior footage from the triage room, where Ellie was being held by unknown subjects.

"What's going on?"

Sarah looked up as he descended the stairs. "I need you not to freak out."

"What? Why would I freak out?"

"Chuck, no matter what you see, you still have to be a spy, you have to focus, to let the Intersect work."

"Where's Casey?" he asked, frowning. He looked past her, at the screens. His eyes lingered on the one with Ellie's driver's license photo, blown up to an eight-by-ten. "What's Ellie got to do with this?"

"Casey was following a hit on one of the GPS watches. What he thought must've been another false alarm wasn't. Something must've happened to him, because he activated his beacon."

Chuck looked back at Sarah. "Okay. So, it wasn't your watch or my watch or Casey's... What, Devon? Was it Devon's, is that why you've got Ellie up there? God, please don't tell me I have to tell my sister that her husband is dead..."

Sarah reached out, bracing a hand on his arm, to help shore him up because she knew he wouldn't take this knowledge well: "It was from Ellie's watch, Chuck."

"Ellie doesn't have a watch."

"Casey gave her one."

His brow knit in confusion. "What are you talking about? Why would Casey do that?"

"Because," she began slowly. "Because, Ellie knows about Casey." She could see a multitude of emotions cross his face. Denial. Shock. Fear. Bewilderment. Anger. Distrust.

"Ellie knows about Casey," he repeated, letting it all sink in. He backed away from her touch as though burned. "What happened to keeping my family out of this? Why would he do that? Ellie is the _one person_ in this world who didn't need to know about _any_ of this."

"She doesn't know about you or me or Castle. All she knows is that Casey is NSA, that he's a Marine. Which is why she's no longer buying the story you told about him. But, all of that... I need you to put all of that out of your head, Chuck, because I need you to focus. I need you to be able to flash." Sarah pulled up the surveillance of the other guards. "Does anyone look familiar?"

While Chuck may have been looking at the screen, he was, clearly, somewhere else. Ellie... How could Ellie know? How could Casey have _told_ her?

"Chuck! Your sister is in real danger. She needs _your_ help!"

Before Sarah could continue to encourage him to work, one of the screens became General Diane Beckman in her office in D.C.

"Agent Walker, Mr. Bartowski..."

"Ma'am," Sarah managed.

"What's going on?"

Sarah relayed what she knew, which wasn't much, while Chuck numbly watched the footage of his sister. Even with guys with guns standing around her, she stood tall, straight. She did her job with precision.

The door opened, and two new figures arrived. One he recognized without flashing. "Casey..."

"What was that?" the General asked.

Sarah followed Chuck's gaze then turned up the volume from Casey's watch. From the footage from the hospital, Chuck, Sarah and the General hear Casey's bravado, his attempt to gain information for them.

"Don't you know that kinda crap can get you killed?"

"Hasn't happened yet."

Sarah winced as her partner's face met a closed fist. Chuck watched as Ellie seemed particularly troubled by the turn of events.

"Throw him in with the rest."

As Casey was pulled away, something else happened, but Chuck couldn't be sure what. He could see Ellie's eyes following Casey to the door. The look on her face was one he didn't quite understand. It looked both fearful and relieved at the same time.

"Find out who they've got. Find out who they are. Work with the local police on site," Beckman said. "I want updates every hour."

"Yes, ma'am," Sarah said before the General terminated the conference.

"Worry," Chuck said aloud.

"What?"

"Ellie's worried about Casey." That had to have been what his sister's expression had meant.

"I'm worried about the both of them, Chuck, so let's see if you flash." She reached over, turning Chuck's face to the proper screen as she again scanned through the images of the guards.

It was the bald-headed guy he flashed on, the one who had punched Casey. When he saw the face fully, he was hit with a myriad of images. Torture. Guns. Crime scene photos. Blood. A stylized eagle.

He frowned.

"What is it?" asked Sarah.

Chuck glanced at her. "His name is Grant Keller. And... He's Fulcrum."

Sarah's smile was slight and absurd. "You mean, the Ring."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I mean Fulcrum."

"Fulcrum is long since gone. Everyone who didn't die was absorbed into Ring cells."

"Not this guy. For whatever reason, he missed the boat."

* * *

Casey was tossed into an exam room with various hospital personnel. He was the only one not in scrubs.

Mandy looked up at the new addition. "Who are you?"

"Someone trying to help," Casey answered. "Is there any way out of this room?" He glanced at the ceiling. He hated crawling through air vents, but he would if he had to. He spotted the vent but the access looked entirely too small.

"Only way out's probably a body bag. They said, if nobody was a hero, we'll all walk out," said an orderly.

Casey grunted, half amused, half sarcastic.

The orderly puffed up. He was a big guy himself, not quite as tall as Casey, but easily as massive. "You don't believe it?"

"Well, they are undisciplined hacks. They may let us go when they get done with whatever it is they're after, but I'm not going to wait around to find out." He eased to the door, watching the guard mill about through the window.

"You look really familiar to me," said Mandy.

Casey looked at the petite, round-faced woman. He didn't recognize her, but that was a good thing, as he tended to recognize criminals and terrorists. "Sorry, lady." He tried the door handle, looking at the orderly. "The door isn't even locked."

The orderly huffed. "None of the room doors in the hospital lock. To prevent hostage-style situations."

Casey rolled his eyes, grunting again. _Civilians..._

The light bulb went off above Mandy's head. She'd heard those grunts before. "You're Dr. Woodcomb's neighbor! We met at the cookout in the courtyard last month. Jeff, right? I'm Mandy."

Casey looked at her again and remembered, vaguely, making an appearance for a cheeseburger and Ellie's homemade coleslaw. He hadn't stayed long. "John," he corrected. The brief thought of being Jeff was disturbing and one he didn't want to revisit ever again.

"What are you, like a police officer?" she asked.

"Just a guy being neighborly."

* * *

Sarah sighed as she again tried to transmit a message to Casey with information Chuck had flashed on. "He must not have his earwig."

"What do we do?"

She grabbed a duffel bag full of supplies. "We go to Westside."

Chuck was quiet on the drive over in the surveillance van.

Sarah glanced at him. "It wasn't intentional."

"What wasn't?"

"Casey and Ellie."

Chuck's jaw tightened. "How did she find out?"

"It's a long story," she admitted. "But, it wasn't on purpose. Casey did his job, which was to protect you."

"Protect me? How, exactly? When? When did she learn about him?"

Sarah exhaled. "San Francisco."

Chuck's mind kicked into overdrive. San Francisco? The conference. The explosion at the hotel. The one she'd said had been an accident. The mugging. The doctor hero.

_His name was Luke. Luke St. John._

"Her doctor in shining scrubs," he began slowly, his anger building. "It was Casey, wasn't it?"

"I need you to remember one thing. Your sister does not know about you. She can't. Whatever you do, when she's safe again, you cannot confront her about this."

"Sarah--"

"You can't."

Chuck grit his teeth. "You can't" sounded an awful lot like "stay in the car" to him. He still wasn't a spy to her, was he? After all they'd done, after all they'd been through. He was still just some asset, wasn't he? Someone who could be burned. Someone who could be used and tossed aside.

Someone who could be lied to.

* * *

"Anybody have a cell phone?" Casey watched as everyone shook their heads. On the off chance, he asked: "The room phone?"

"One of the guys took it," answered Mandy.

Casey exhaled. "All right. When I get the opportunity, I'm leaving. I have to. I'm going to _trust_--" and he had a hard time with that word "--that you will not immediately alert the guys with the MAC-10s. The sooner I get out, the sooner this matter is taken care of, the sooner all of us walk out of here alive. Agreed?"

The orderly wasn't so sure, but Mandy spoke up. "Don't worry, John. You can count on us."

He nodded at her, before returning his attention out the window. As he'd noted before, the guards were distracted, easily bored.

When the guards nearest the room turned their backs, Casey opened the door and silently slipped out.

Mandy rushed towards it, cautiously peeking out and watching as Casey made his way down the corridor and out of sight.

* * *

Sarah pulled the black surveillance van into a far corner of the parking lot. She made sure she had her CIA-issued ID at the ready to take over operational control of the situation. "Ready?"

Chuck looked at her blankly.

She fought a sigh. "I know none of this is ideal, but we have to make sure that Ellie and Casey come out of this unharmed."

Chuck merely nodded as the two climbed out of the van to cross to the police barricade.

As expected, a uniformed officer stopped them.

Sarah held up her open badge. "Federal Agents. I need to speak with the officer in charge."

The uniform looked at her badge before relaying the information elsewhere. They all heard the all-clear from the police radio in return.

Chuck and Sarah ducked beneath the yellow crime scene tape and made their way to the mobile command post.

"So, the CIA wants to take over." A man with a salt and pepper crew cut lowered headphones from his ears, standing. "Captain Andy Knowles, LAPD."

"Sarah Walker," she said, accepting his proffered hand. "And this is Charles Carmichael."

The two men nodded at each other.

"My partner is on the inside," Sarah began. "I have no way to contact him, but he has a radio transmitter and has been able to offer updates from within the Emergency Room."

"One CIA agent does not trump the estimated thirty civilians inside. No offense."

Sarah smiled sweetly. "It's thirty-seven civilians. And the men responsible for this takeover are known terrorists. No offense, Captain, but my team is more capable of handling them than all of your men on the perimeter."

And here Chuck thought they were supposed to play nice with the local police.

"What do you suggest we do, then, Agent Walker? They've not made any demands."

"And they won't. They don't want boatloads of cash or a helicopter to some remote, tropical island. They're here for a purpose. Best we can tell, for an actual medical purpose."

"So one of their gang members takes a bullet to the gut. Why take over an ER? Why not use the services like everyone else?" asked Knowles.

"They aren't typical 'gang members,' Captain. They're trained killers. They're enemies of the state."

"So, my negotiation team. They're worthless?"

Chuck finally jumped into the conversation. "Maybe not."

* * *

Casey slipped into the empty nurses' station at the heart of the ER, taking cover under the desk. He couldn't believe he was about to do this, but he pulled a play from one of Chuck's playbooks.

Quietly stealing the paging microphone from the desk, he hit the broadcast button. "Dr. Casey, please report to room 1835. Dr. Casey, 1835."

He released the button, listening as the guards continued to mill about aimlessly.

He allowed himself one brief moment of relief, that the plan was still working. But, that was kind of where his plan had ended. He was flying by the seat of his pants, and it wasn't his favorite way to run an operation.

Carefully, he replaced the microphone and waited for his next opportunity.

* * *

"Dr. Casey, please report to room 1835."

Ellie looked up from the patient. She recognized that voice instantly. _John_. She smiled a little. He hadn't been held long at all.

"Dr. Casey, 1835."

The number was a little trickier. At first, she wasn't sure what, if anything, that meant. She was fairly certain there wasn't a patient room that high. And why would he give that room number anyway?

She realized, stupidly, that it was the number on her apartment. Her heart pounded a little faster. He was coming to get her.

"What is taking so long?" Keller demanded.

Ellie was pulled from her distracted hopeful state. "Sir, your friend here is in serious trouble. We need to be able to run tests, to see the extent of the damage, to consult with a surgeon...We're just emergency medicine here. We prep the kitchen; we don't bake the cake." For a few seconds, she got lost in her own analogy. _Pecan pie. And peanut butter cookies_. Those were things she'd rather be working on.

Keller groaned. This mess was more than what he'd signed on for. It seemed to be completely screwed, from the very beginning. He pointed his MAC-10 at her, square at her chest. "Fix him."

"I can't," she told him. "Not 'I won't.' Not 'I refuse.' I _cannot_." Her voice didn't break; it only wavered somewhat. She'd found an inner strength she wasn't fully capable of understanding at the moment. It might've been because of the harrowing events of San Francisco. Or it might've been that she'd had it all the time and had forgotten about it somewhere along the way.

Scott was more scared for her than she appeared to be for herself.

Keller lowered his weapon after her failure to flinch. "Huh. I like you, Doc. You've got spunk. Fire. But, see, I think you can fix him. What would it take for you to get him talking again?"

"An operating room and a surgeon. While I appreciate the vote of confidence, it's misplaced," Ellie said evenly.

"Nearest operating room from here?" Keller asked.

"Just on the backside of the ER," Ellie answered.

"And a surgeon?"

Ellie sighed. "I'd have to put in a call; I'm not sure."

Keller glanced over, spotting one of his men. "Dunbar, take our good friend the doctor, here, to check out the availabilities of an operating room. See if it has what she needs to fix him."

Dunbar was a wiry, lanky guy with messy dark hair peeking out from under a baseball cap. He might've reminded Ellie of Chuck had he not been so scary-looking. He crossed to her, grabbing her arm in a vise grip. The tip of his MAC-10 found the small of her back. "Lead the way," he snickered.

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

"Chuck--"

"If you don't start talking, and I mean _right_ _now,_ I will start throwing punches. As good as you _think_ you are, Casey, the Intersect _is_ better."

Casey shoved Chuck against the side of the van, making it rock.

Sarah immediately exited and could see, clearly, the fury in Casey's blue eyes, and the anger in Chuck's brown ones as Casey held Chuck, pinned, to the side of the van. "Casey!"


	4. Chapter 4

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Chuck and Sarah wake to Casey's GPS emergency beacon being activated. Casey gets captured by the men who have taken over Westside's ER but manages to escape. Beckman orders Chuck and Sarah to work with the local PD and to resolve the matter. Chuck finds out that Ellie learned of Casey's true identity in San Francisco. Ellie finds and uses her inner strength to stand up to the former Fulcrum agent, Grant Keller.

* * *

Casey stiffened when he heard shuffling footsteps near the nurses' station. It wasn't just the sound of combat boots. He flattened himself to the ground, looking through the two inch gap between the floor and the bottom of the door into the station, watching white sneakers lead the way down the hall. He had a bad feeling he recognized those shoes.

Easing to look over the top of the desk, he saw Ellie and the guard, with his gun in her back.

As soon as he figured out how, that man was going to go down first.

One of the other guards offered a wolf whistle. "Where you takin' this one?"

"Operating room."

Casey heard only bits of the next exchange, something about showing the lady how to operate, and he could only assume it was serving to intimidate and disgust Ellie, and he made a mental note to add the second guy to his list of people of asses to kick before the night was out.

The other laughed then said something about "taking a leak."

Casey knelt by the door back into the corridor. When he no longer heard close footsteps, he eased out into the hallway. He knew the way to the operating rooms and rushed to catch up to Ellie. He slid to a quiet stop at the end of the corridor, right before the turn into the operating area. Peeking just around the corner, he could see another guard, watching and chuckling at what was going on through the window out of the ER.

With the practiced moves he'd mastered in his career, he eased up behind the guard, wrapping his arms around the guard's neck snugly.

As expected, the man put up a fight, but it was nothing Casey couldn't handle, nothing he couldn't deal with.

When the man finally stopped thrashing about, Casey lowered him to the ground quietly. He rifled though the man's belongings, coming up with the spare magazines for the MAC-10, which he pocketed, along with the one in the gun itself. He also grabbed what looked like a card key and, from the man's belt, the walkie-talkie.

Pressing the button on his watch, he whispered: "Walker, picked up a radio from one of our bad guys. Switching frequencies. Find something that can transmit back."

Spotting a supply closet, he dragged the unconscious body inside before he quickly dashed into the main part of the hospital, to try to find Ellie.

* * *

Chuck kept running the video back on one of the monitors while Sarah moved the LAPD into the best possible positions surrounding Westside. He kept watching, over and over, as Keller lifted his gun and pointed it at his sister's chest. Ellie seemed calm, cool, and collected. When it was clear Keller was laughing at Ellie's lack of reaction, Chuck narrowed his eyes.

As soon as Ellie was removed from the room, he ran the video back again.

He jumped, however, when Casey's voice filled their van, reporting he'd taken a radio.

Sarah moved immediately, scrolling through the available frequencies on their transmitter, eventually finding the correct one. "Casey?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"What's going on?" Sarah asked.

Before Casey could respond, Chuck hit the transmit button. "How could you tell _Ellie_? Of all the people, Casey, of all the things you've done, and you've done some really, really despicable things--"

"We can argue about this later, Bartowski. Right now I'm trying to save your sister and I'm doing it blind and, up until this moment, deaf. Get off the damned radio," Casey said over his watch transmitter.

"Chuck," Sarah said with a sigh.

She hadn't told him anything about not confronting Casey... He backed away, however.

"Go, Casey," Sarah radioed.

"Eyes in the operating room?"

Sarah hit a few keystrokes. "Looks like Ellie's in the first one, with just one guard, looking at the equipment inside."

"Going in to get her out. Guard's placement in the room?"

"Inside the door to the right. What about the patient?"

"First missions first," Casey radioed.

* * *

Casey turned the volume down on the radio before moving to the first operating room. He could hear the gunman inside with Ellie tapping his foot impatiently and whining that she was taking too long.

Casey took a deep breath. He slammed the door open, rushing the gunman, just to the right of the door as Sarah had said.

Ellie couldn't prevent a yelp. It was all very surreal, watching Casey wrestle with yet another gunman. She had her wits about her this time and moved out of the way, to safety, ducking behind a cabinet in the back corner of the room.

Casey managed to get the gun away from the wiry agent, landing solid punches to his face until the boy passed out.

He got to his feet, looking at his bloodied knuckles with a sigh. "Ellie?"

"John?"

He glanced over, seeing her dark head peek out from her hiding spot. "Let's get you outta here."

"What?" she asked, emerging.

"Two guards knocked out means it's a perfect opportunity for me to get you the hell outta Dodge. Let's go."

She shook her head. "I can't leave."

"Ellie, this isn't up for negotiation."

"You're right," she said. "It's not. I can't leave. I can't leave that patient. Scotty'll never be able to do anything for him. The only reason I can is because _you _helped teach me how to deal with situations like that," she said, pointing towards the ER.

While he'd love to take credit for that, at this particular moment it seemed to be backfiring on him. "As much as I appreciate your dedication to your craft, _Doc_, your safety is my priority one." He reached out to grab her arm, but she backed away from him.

"As much as I appreciate your dedication to your craft, _Colonel_, my patient is my priority one."

"You want to walk back into that lion's den, with guys with MAC-10s?"

She hesitated.

"I didn't think so. C'mon," he said, offering her his hand this time.

She shook her head. "I can't, John. That man needs me."

"There are other men that need you. Chuck, Devon--"

"You'll come get me."

He neared her, lowering his voice. "I'm right here, right now. I can have you out of the building in less than two minutes."

She looked up at him, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, John."

He knew, from experience, there was no changing a Bartowski's mind, not once it was made up. Muttering a curse, he lifted the radio, pressing the button. "I need an earpiece and a watch for Ellie. She's decided she's going back into the ER. She needs to be able to hear my instruction and she needs to be able to let us know what's going on."

* * *

Chuck shook his head. "No, no, no, no, no. What the hell?" He started to transmit back to Casey, but Sarah pulled the plug on the microphone. "Sarah!"

"You say anything back to Casey and Ellie hears it. She hears _your_ voice. She cannot know about you, Chuck."

"That's my sister! He's sending _my sister_ back into the ER, where people point _guns_ at her! I am so sick of the CIA and the NSA putting the people I love into harm's way. You've put _everyone_ into _every _kind of horrific situation imaginable!"

"Did you hear him? 'She's decided.' It wasn't his call. He was trying to get her out," Sarah said as she worked to pull the electronics equipment together he asked for.

"She decided because he told her to. He's brainwashed her, hasn't he? From San Francisco. He saved her then, so she trusts him. An assassin, a cold-blooded killer. He's sending her back in. He's going to get her _killed_."

"He said he was going to get her out. Out, Chuck. Not that he was going to send her back in, but that he was going to get her out of the hospital."

Chuck shook his head.

She programmed the earwig to only pick up Casey's watch and made sure that the watch could pick up all sounds, unlike Casey's that required a manual activation of the microphone. But, because she couldn't be seen either, she made her way to Captain Knowles, who was still on site. "I need a favor."

* * *

Casey lingered in the hallway, watching both towards the ER, for any sign of movement on the part of any of the guards, and back into the hospital, for any signs of the equipment arriving. Every now and then he'd look through the glass at Ellie, who was still busy preparing the operating room to see the patient.

While the movements looked sure and strong, he could see the emotions in her eyes. Concern, anxiousness.

It was still possible, he decided, to just pick her up and fireman-carry her out of there. But, he had no idea who it was who had taken over the ER, or what they were doing there. As much as he hated it, as much as the idea of sending her back in there made him sick, he knew, from an intelligence standpoint, that it made the most sense.

A SWAT Team member eased down the corridor, in full body armor.

Casey moved down to meet him halfway, where he'd dragged the unconscious body of the wiry agent.

"Colonel Casey?"

He nodded. "Trade you," he said, glancing at the body of the still knocked out agent.

The police officer cracked a smile, holding out two evidence bags. One was marked Ellie, the other Casey.

Casey returned to the operating room as the officer began backing down the hall, pulling the unconscious agent along with him. "Ellie?"

She looked up as he offered her a new watch.

"Same deal as San Francisco. Anything said normally will be heard by the watch, no matter where you are. You get in a tight spot, you lift and whisper."

She tugged off her silver watch, offering it back to him. She looked fretfully at the replacement, as it had a black leather band. "You don't think they'll notice?"

"It'll be fine," Casey told her as she put it on. He held out the earpiece to her.

Taking a deep breath, she accepted it, sliding it into her ear.

Casey eased back from her, lifting his watch and pressing the mike button. "Sound check. Everything clear?"

Ellie nodded. "Hey, John... What'll you do now?"

"I'm going to grab my sidearm and figure out what's going on. I'll probably be outside with the rest of the police, see what they know, then get everybody ready to move in."

She nodded, walking with him into the hallway and towards the ER. She stopped just shy of the door. "John."

"Yeah," he said, hoping she had changed her mind, that she was going to let him take her away from this.

"Promise me something?"

"Anything."

She stepped through the door to the ER, lifting her watch to her lips. "Come save me."

Those three words whispered in his ear echoed in his head and it took every last ounce of willpower, of strength to keep from pulling her back through the door, to take her to safety now, to not let her get anywhere close to those assholes again.

* * *

Casey climbed into the back of the surveillance van, tossing the radio at Sarah. "Changed back to bad guy frequency. What are we dealing with?"

"Grant Keller," Sarah answered. "We don't have much. Former Fulcrum. Mid-level receivables. Weaponry, tech."

"How could you let her do that?" Chuck asked.

Casey looked over at Chuck. "Because she wanted to. Because she made her choice and no amount of my convincing her otherwise was going to make a difference."

"How did she learn about you? Huh? Sarah said it was San Francisco. First, you were sick. Then your aunt died. Now the truth _finally_ comes out. You _told_ Ellie the secret, the secret that's supposed to be top secret, that no one else is supposed to know about--"

"I will debrief you later, but, right now, I need the Intersect." He held out the card key to Chuck. "Took that off one of the gunmen."

"Looks like a generic card key, like a hotel key," Chuck said, barely looking at it.

"Glad to know that's in the Intersect," Casey muttered. He turned to Sarah. "Where are we with snipers?"

"SWAT's set up three vans down; they probably need a briefing from you on who's who," Sarah said.

He nodded, climbing back out of the van.

Chuck followed him, tossing the card on the desk. "How hard can it be? The bad guys are the ones with the guns. The good guys are the ones in the scrubs."

"Chuck--"

"If you don't start talking, and I mean _right_ _now,_ I will start throwing punches. As good as you _think_ you are, Casey, the Intersect _is_ better."

Casey shoved Chuck against the side of the van, making it rock.

Sarah immediately exited and could see, clearly, the fury in Casey's blue eyes, and the anger in Chuck's brown ones as Casey held Chuck, pinned, to the side of the van. "Casey!"

"Looks like there's still no replacement for years of training," Casey grit out before taking a step back.

"She's my _sister_!"

"And I have done _everything_ in my power to keep her safe!"

"Everything except prevent her from going back in there!"

"I promised her I'd save her. And I will. With your help or not."

"Don't throw this back at me."

"Your sister. Your cover. Your life. How is this _not_ your fault?"

"Casey, _stop it_," Sarah said, moving to stand between them. "Chuck, we need an analysis of that card key. Casey, SWAT is _still_ waiting on you."

Casey and Chuck stared at each other for a long moment before Casey walked off.

Sarah reached out, to put a comforting hand on Chuck's shoulder, but he shrugged her off before climbing back inside the van.

* * *

Ellie breathed slowly, evenly as she returned to the ER. She reminded herself she needed to stay focused, to let her fear be a help, not a hindrance.

Keller looked up as she reentered. "Where's Dunbar?"

"He walked me back here, said he was going to check on the others," Ellie lied smoothly.

"The operating room?"

"It's ready for him. I still think I need to contact a surgeon--"

"Ah, c'mon, Doc, you'll be great. 'Sides, all I need him to be able to do is talk to me."

"Just... talk?" Ellie asked, frowning.

"That's easier, right? You don't have to patch him up perfectly. Just get him awake, able to chat."

"You just want him conscious?" asked Scott. "He's in a tremendous amount of pain. The only thing he'll be cognizant of would be screaming, blinding agony if we were to take him off sedation so you guys could 'chat.'"

"Didn't ask for your opinion," Keller said, leveling the MAC-10 at Scott, who immediately backed off, sinking slightly as his knees became jelly.

"It is ill-advisable," Ellie returned. As the gun swung back around to her, she fought to steady her nerves. She should've let Casey take her far from the hospital, away from this danger. What had she been thinking? Taking a slow breath, she thought about... rolling pins. Yes, a rolling pin, rolling out her homemade pie crust. She could see it, on the marble counter at home, growing inch by inch. She could see herself flouring it, flipping it over, and giving it another good ironing before easing it onto the glass plate and docking it. Her nerves settled somewhat, she spoke again: "You brought him here for our medical opinion. Until this man can undergo surgery to repair the damage that's been done, he needs to remain under sedation."

"Then _fix_ him!"

* * *

Chuck kept a close eye on the screen with Ellie, listening as she responded to the former Fulcrum agent. Seeing her at the mercy of Keller's gun again, he struggled to remain calm. Why did Casey have to dangle his sister out like a worm in front of angry piranha?

He calmed down, somewhat, when the gun was lowered. With a sigh, he looked at the computer that was running the diagnostic on the card key. Feeling eyes on him, he glanced over, to see Sarah watching him. "What?"

"Ellie. It was a call from the General. You know how Casey is with orders."

"You knew?"

She nodded. "It wasn't easy. For any of us."

"How can she know only about Casey? How can you know the whole story, but she not know about you?"

"I was in L.A. the whole time, with you. She never knew I was the voice Casey talked to on the other side of the radio."

"Sarah, this is... this is unacceptable."

"Unfortunately, it's fact," she said as gently as she could.

"This is _exactly_ what I didn't want to happen to my family. Do you understand that? Does the General get that? This is _exactly_ what I was afraid of. This is exactly what I _didn't_ want to happen!"

"Chuck, there is no going back, not now. All there is, all we can do, is more forward. And to move forward is to prevent Ellie and Devon from knowing any more than they already know. The moment, the_ second_ that Ellie knows about this," Sarah said, gesturing around the surveillance van, "is the moment you'll never see her again. I know that would kill you more than this, as much as you think this is devastating. I know that would destroy you."

Chuck, still reeling from the emotion, from the knowledge, challenged back: "It would destroy me? Or it would destroy the ability of the Intersect to work properly?"

Sarah sighed heavily. There was no way to win. It wasn't so much that she wanted to win, it was that she wanted to make this a situation that Chuck could deal with, that he could live with. And he wasn't open to listening to her, to having her explain how this wasn't the end of the world. She was too tired herself to deal with it. "When you're done with this, whatever _this_ is," she said. "Let me know. So we can all save your sister."

"You're going to back Casey?"

"He is my partner," she said, standing.

Chuck started to explode again, but Casey's commanding voice stopped him: "_Enough!"_

Chuck's ire turned toward the NSA agent as he re-entered the van. "You don't get to say 'enough.' This is my _family_ we're talking about!"

"I'm the senior-most intelligence agent on this assignment. _Enough_, Bartowski," he said, almost pleadingly. "You want to be mad at someone, be mad at me. All Walker was trying to do was help you. Let her."

* * *

"Seriously, Ellie," Scott whispered as they worked feverishly over their patient in the operating room. "How in the _hell_ did you do that? _Twice_?"

She glanced up at him.

"You didn't even _flinch_."

"I am married to Devon. King of Extreme Sports," she commented.

"That's completely different," Scott said, shaking his head. "That's, like, fake adrenaline. Bungee jumping, ooh, exciting. Over in two minutes and you're laughing with your beer-drinking buds. That was _real_. That could've been death. I could've been..." He swayed slightly on his feet. "I could've been trying to put you back together. Or myself, even."

"Don't think about it," she said. "Just... just put it behind you."

"You say that like it's nothing. Like this is just a fly on the wall or something. A moderate pest."

Ellie focused on the patient between them. "There's not much else we can do, Scotty."

* * *

Casey glanced at Chuck, who still decrypting the code key, before returning his attention to the screen in front of him. Sarah'd gone to check on the LAPD negotiation team. They'd been attempting to contact the hostage-takers, but they hadn't been getting very far. Initial reports weren't promising. But, they were keeping up the appearances that this was a normal hostage negotiation effort. There was nothing out of the ordinary, no CIA, no NSA waiting in the wings.

Casey lifted his watch to his mouth, hitting the microphone button. "How are you doing?"

Chuck immediately looked to see his sister, watching as she dipped her head, almost imperceptibly.

"Good girl," Casey told her. "We know who they are. What we don't know is why they're there, what they're after, or who that man is on the table in front of you."

"She's not a spy, Casey," Chuck hissed at him.

On the screen, Ellie licked her lips before speaking. "Do you know anything about his medical history? A bad time to be asking, now that we've already started, but any allergies, any medical conditions..."

Keller shook his head.

"Okay, then," Ellie muttered.

"Have you seen anything distinguishing about him? Tattoos? Scars?" Casey asked.

"You can see, just as well as she can, from the cameras," huffed Chuck.

Casey sat up straighter as Ellie pointed out something subtly

The man had a distinctive signet ring on his right hand. Normal procedure would've been to remove all of the patient's belongings, but, given the complexity of the situation, they hadn't chanced anything outside what was ordered. Ellie cleared her throat, twisting the ring slightly, to make sure the crest showed.

Chuck's eyes unfocused. "Jennings. Stanley Jennings, weapons designer. Thought to be..." He sighed. "He was originally sought to be part of Intersect 2.0 project team but he didn't pass the security checks."

"Jennings..." Casey radioed Sarah from the van, not wanting Ellie to hear. "Walker, Stanley Jennings ringing any bells with you?"

A moment later, Sarah's voice filled the van. "Remember? We were talking yesterday about the weapons designer the CIA was going to pick up."

"Don't think he made it," Casey said.

"Hey, Casey..." Chuck began slowly, his mind processing all the facts.

"Yeah?"

"Keller asked Ellie to bring Jennings around, so they could talk."

Casey looked at Chuck. "Please tell me your sister refused."

"Even at gunpoint," Chuck said. "Why?"

"I think they're here to further the torture, to get whatever it was that Jennings was working on out of him."

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

As Casey loaded his gun, he glanced at Chuck, as his phone rang for the third time. "You gonna answer that?"

"It's Devon," he said. "What am I supposed to tell him?"

"Media's been here about as long as we have," Sarah said. "He's probably seen something, heard something. Maybe somebody called him about it."

Casey pulled on his Kevlar vest. "Tell him... Tell him she's going to be okay."


	5. Chapter 5

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Casey attempts to rescue Ellie, but she wants to stay and help her patient. Casey reluctantly agrees and gets her wired to go back. Chuck blows up at Casey telling Ellie anything about the spy game. Chuck tries to analyze a card key Casey found on a guard. Ellie is able to clue the spies in about who it is they're dealing with, as Chuck flashes on Stanley Jennings' distinctive ring. Casey realizes that Keller may be using Ellie and the Westside ER as continued torture for the weapons designer.

* * *

His eyes flew open as he heard the crash in the courtyard. Morgan slunk out of bed, staying low as he crawled out of his bedroom and towards Chuck's. "Buddy," he hissed. "We got incoming!"

He was greeted by silence.

"C'mon, dude, there's trouble afoot." Anxiously, he eased up onto his knees, to take a better look in Chuck's room, only to find that the bed, while having been slept in, was empty. Worse, the former "Morgan Door" window was wide open.

Morgan nearly fell over backing into the hallway. His mind raced as he scrambled to formulate his plan. First, he needed something to defend himself with. Second, he needed backup. From his bedroom closet, he pulled a long, skinny box. He took a slow, calming breath before unsheathing the monstrous, hand-crafted replica of Obi-Wan's lightsaber he'd bought at some convention. It had a real steel handle and, well, a painted wooden blade. But, it was heavy and it would do real damage. It was not some collapsible, cheap toy.

Armed, he fumbled for his cell phone, calling Devon.

It didn't take long for the doctor to answer sleepily. "Woodcomb."

"Cap'n, we got bogies. Two of them in the courtyard. I need an assist. Chuck is AWOL, perhaps taken by these potential thieves. Can I count on you?"

"We should call the cops," Devon said, sounding decidedly more awake at the news.

"No time. It'll take forever for anyone to show. We gotta protect our homeland, bro. We are the first, last and only line of defense against the worst scum of the universe!"

Devon sighed. "Get Casey. He'll help, too."

"Ooh, good call. We'll surround them. And may the force be with you," he said quickly before hanging up. He attempted Casey's number next but he was greeted by a grunting voice mail message.

* * *

Devon watched as two shadowy figures begin easing towards Chuck's room, poking their heads in the open window. "Crap," he muttered, racing towards the closet. He snagged a baseball bat left over from the Westside doctors' summer league. Exhaling, he moved for the front door, to help Morgan encircle the threats.

There were definitely two men. One was slightly taller, slightly larger, while the other was shorter and considerably slim. He pondered what they could be after. Electronics? There were video game consoles galore held in his old apartment, he knew. Money? He wasn't sure what Chuck did with his dough, but surely the government paid something on top of his Buy More income.

He moved stealthily, from potted plant to potted plant. He glanced at Casey's apartment, hoping to see a light coming on or some kind of movement from within. Three against two would be much better odds, especially considering he wasn't entirely sure how good Morgan would be in a tussle.

* * *

Morgan leaned against the wall just to the right of the open window, wrapped up in a black cloak left over from an old Halloween costume, holding his lightsaber at the ready. He closed his eyes, channeling the force, allowing all the midi-clorians to flow as they would to help protect him. He opened one eye, however, as one fuzzy head appeared in the window, followed by two arms and a foot, climbing through.

"Die, Sith!" he hollered, raising the sword above his head.

The man screamed, somewhat girlish, and fell into the room, nearly kicking his slight companion as he tumbled to the ground.

The slimmer one cursed in... Hebrew?

"Who sent you?" Morgan asked, his lightsaber at the fallen man's neck.

Devon, meanwhile, grabbed a hold of the collar of the other.

"Oh, God, don't shoot!"

Morgan recognized the voice and glanced out into the courtyard. He blindly reached over, turning on a lamp. "Lester?"

"H-hey, Morgan," Lester managed.

Devon released the Nerd Herder. "What on Earth, guys?" he asked, watching as Morgan gave Jeff a hand up.

"We were looking for Chuck," Jeff admitted.

"Well, he's not here right now. No clue where he went, actually," Morgan said, looking again at Chuck's rumpled bed.

"Well, maybe you can help!" Lester began. "See, we were at Benny's..."

Devon frowned. "Who's Benny?" He thought he knew all the Buy More employees.

"Bennigan's," Morgan said. "It's a bar."

"Oh," Devon said with a nod. He realized quickly, however, that they were drunk. He was losing sleep because of drunken Buy Morons. "Ohh," he said, annoyed. "Say, Morgan, you got this covered? 'Cause I gotta get some shut-eye. Early call and all..."

Morgan nearly panicked. "Wait, Devon, don't you... I mean, c'mon... I..."

But, the doctor was already halfway across the courtyard as Jeff and Lester both began speaking again, as though nothing had happened.

"...and we realized... The ultimate space battle: The Millennium Falcon versus the USS Enterprise. Pick your model. Y'know, NX, A through D, the original, captained by the one and only James Tiberius Kirk... I pose to you this query: who wins?" asked Lester.

"I'm _telling_ you," Jeff said with a drunken huff, "that you need to toss in the firefly-class Serenity and the Colonial Viper to do a tag-team style battle royale!"

* * *

Sarah was on the phone with Langley. While it may have been four AM on the West Coast, it was already seven on the East Coast, and the Agency was starting to fill with operatives and analysts for the day. Nothing in the intelligence reports they'd received the day before had said anything about what, specifically, Jennings had been working on, and it would be nice to know what might be worth torturing a man to death.

Casey paced just outside the van, on a new cell phone, listening to Beckman's response to their update.

Sarah stuck her head out the door, waving him back inside.

He held one finger up, listening as the General began winding down. "Yes, ma'am. Thanks," he said, closing the phone. As he climbed inside, he said: "CIA confirmed they picked up Jennings yesterday, as per their plan."

"So, who's that guy?" Chuck asked, pointing at the screen with Ellie in the operating room.

"Good question, Bartowski. You flashed on his ring, Jennings' ring. The guy the CIA picked up had one as well. While I don't think there are two of them, clearly somebody's got the real weapons designer and somebody's got a ringer."

"Well, we know what he was working on," Sarah said. "Intelligence smuggling."

"What?" asked Casey.

"It's kind of like an Intersect, best I can tell, but on a much smaller scale. Specific intel is uploaded. Not the skills or abilities or super-computer amounts of data like in the Intersect 2.0. But, say you want to transfer plans for a new untraceable bomb. This information is of top-dollar value to you and you don't want to trust an encrypted USB flash drive to move the designs. Use a walking, talking courier. Someone who can have the images, the details in their brain but not access them, not until receiving a specific trigger. A forced flash, if you will."

"Without the trigger, without the forced flash, lemme guess," Casey said. "There's no way to access the information? You've made someone torture-proof."

Sarah shrugged. "That's kind of the idea."

Casey exhaled. "I dunno about all this... mind-spying."

"The future of black-ops," Sarah said, crossing her arms in front her chest.

"You know I'm standing right here, don't you?" asked Chuck.

Casey tiredly rubbed at his face. "I'd rather have one of _you_ rather than a whole army of _them_." He began digging through a black duffel in the back of the van. "All right, well, now that we know what we're dealing with, let's put an end to this." He tossed a box of ammo at Sarah.

She caught it easily. "Tranqs?"

"I wanna interrogate Keller and his cronies, see why they're after the intel smuggling capabilities, don't you?"

* * *

Devon looked at the empty bed for a solid five minutes. Was there really any point to going back to sleep? His alarm would be going off in less than an hour, given that it was already past four AM. With a sigh, he decided to start his day off with a little extra cardio. He changed, into his bike shorts and sneakers, heading down to climb onto the stationary bicycle.

Instead of listening to his iPod, he turned on the television, finding the insanely early news. After the weather and the national headlines recap, the local newscasters returned to their top story: the hostage situation at the Westside Medical Center ER.

He nearly fell off the machine. Westside. ER. _Ellie_.

She'd left in such a hurry. And he'd left their relationship in such a lurch.

* * *

"But, the Viper and the Serenity, there's absolutely _no_ comparison. One is a fighter, designed for speed and destruction. The other is... C'mon, Jefferson, it's named after a _lightning bug_ for crying out loud," Lester said with a chuckle.

Morgan couldn't believe he was still standing there, listening to the bickering between long-time friends over a theoretical--as in would _never_ happen--spaceship fight. "Guys..."

"You're forgetting that the Serenity comes equipped, standard, with one River Tam, hot badass, and one Jayne Cobb, not-so-smart badass," Jeff pointed out. "What's a Viper got?"

"One word for you, my friend: Starbuck," Lester said with a nod.

"Girl Starbuck or guy Starbuck?"

"Seriously, can you take this somewhere else? Like, anywhere else?" asked Morgan.

"This is why we need Charles," Lester said. "He can settle this."

"Well, he's not here right now. Corner him at work tomorrow, okay? Shoo," Morgan said, gesturing with the lightsaber.

"You think he hooked back up with blondie?" Jeff asked. "'Cause, if not, I was thinkin' about hitting that..."

"Leave," Morgan said, thoroughly grossed out.

The door to Devon and Ellie's apartment slammed open, causing all three to jump. They watched as Devon raced across the courtyard, still in his spandex, although he'd added a UCLA tee shirt. "Where's the fire?" Morgan called out, wishing he, too, was needed anywhere but there.

* * *

Ellie was relieved to hear John's voice in her ear again: "Won't be long. Timing depends on you, on what your patient needs. If I have a team of surgeons on standby, can you prep him for them?"

"Mm-hmm," she murmured.

"How long do you need?"

She lifted her arm casually, as if relaxing her hand for a moment. "Ten, fifteen," she said softly.

"When we come in, I want you to stay low. We're firing tranquilizer rounds instead of live ammunition. I promise, Ellie, I'm going to get you out of there."

"Ten, fifteen what?" Scott asked, glancing up at her.

She smiled innocently. "Just... talking to myself," she said with a nod.

* * *

As Casey loaded his gun, he glanced at Chuck, as his phone rang for the third time. "You gonna answer that?"

"It's Devon," he said. "What am I supposed to tell him?"

"Media's been here about as long as we have," Sarah said. "He's probably seen something, heard something. Maybe somebody called him about it."

Casey pulled on his Kevlar vest. "Tell him... Tell him she's going to be okay."

Chuck sighed, licking his lips, before answering the phone. He tried to sound upbeat, to sound as normal as possible, which failed pretty spectacularly. "Hey, bro."

"Chuck! Thank God. Where are you?"

"Where... where am I? Where are you?"

"Standing outside Westside, looking at Casey's Crown Vic. How bad is this? Is Ellie okay?"

"We've been working on it, Devon. Ellie's going to be fine. I'm going to see to it." He glanced over, frowning when he realized Sarah and Casey were whispering near the door. "Hang on a second," he said, muting the phone. "You two wanna share with the rest of the class?"

"For Ellie and Devon's continued covers, you probably need to be with Devon," Sarah said.

"I'm not leaving, not until I know my sister's safe. The minute I'm out of here, the minute I'm waiting on the other side of the yellow police tape... Something could go wrong. You could need me."

"It needs to be believable for Ellie. It needs to be believable for Devon, too, for that matter," Sarah said. "It'll be fine, Chuck; we'll remain in radio contact--"

"Let him stay," Casey said, cutting off his partner. "As soon as it's over, though..."

Chuck looked at Casey, nodding. He didn't say thank you, because he knew Casey wasn't big on those. Not to mention, he knew he hadn't been the easiest person to get along with in the past hour. Most importantly, he knew that had been Casey's way of saying they were all right.

* * *

Scott could tell something was up as Ellie began doing preparatory work instead of continuing to try to perform the surgical procedures to fix up the severely injured man in front of them. He glanced past her, at Keller, who was sitting on a stool, not looking at them at the moment. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"

Ellie only smiled. "Follow my lead, okay?"

"This has to do with your friend, doesn't it? That mouthy guy."

Ellie didn't respond. She merely bit her lower lip.

* * *

It was a two-pronged attack. LAPD snipers armed with tranquilizer rounds waited on the rooftop of the adjacent cancer center for the go-signal from Casey, as he led the SWAT team into the hospital.

The hallways were clear, devoid of all patients and hospital staff between the entrance and the operating room. The SWAT team moved swiftly down the corridor towards Ellie.

With only two more turns until the proper hall, Casey radioed the snipers. "This is Casey. Open fire."

* * *

Keller didn't receive notice of the ambush until it was too late. When the first radio call came in that they were under attack, Casey and his team took out the two guards in the hall outside the operating room.

Ellie quickly threw the sheet over the exposed wounds of her patient before hitting the ground. Scott wasn't far behind.

Realizing he'd been had, that somehow the doctors had known what would happen, Keller yanked Ellie off the floor, holding her tightly in front of him, pointing his MAC-10 back at Casey as SWAT entered the room.

Casey, outwardly, was calm and collected. Inwardly, he realized this was the closest to death, to danger he'd allowed Ellie to get. He was mad at himself, but he couldn't let himself be distracted, not now.

"I'm going to walk out of here, free and clear. You're all going to back up," Keller said.

Casey didn't tell him that the hospital was surrounded. One step outside, and Keller would be in the thick of close to one hundred officers from various city, county, and federal agencies. He looked at Ellie, at her wide eyes. He could tell she wasn't breathing.

"Back off!" Keller demanded, pointing the gun to Ellie's head.

She closed her eyes tightly. She'd always thought those stories of people having their life flash before their eyes, that it was just something people said, that it wasn't something that really happened. But every major event, every major happening played through her head. It seemed to take both forever and no time at all, remembering the day her little brother was born, the day her mother left, the first time a boy asked her out, being elected student council president, the day her father left, her graduation from UCLA, Chuck's graduation from high school, meeting Devon, Chuck's being kicked out of Stanford, seeing her father again--"_Pancakes..._," her wedding day--which had been both disastrous and wonderful. But the final image that played on the backs of her closed eyelids was Casey, gun drawn, breaking into her room at the hotel in San Francisco.

Casey was taking a calculated risk, one he hated to take. He hoped she remembered that she needed to trust him, that this was his profession, this, of everything in the world, was what he excelled at. "Stand down." Reluctantly, SWAT lowered their weapons at his order, taking a step back. Even the Colonel took one half step backwards.

Keller eased, smirking.

In that brief moment, Casey seized the opportunity, firing two tranquilizer rounds into the arm wrapped around Ellie. Both landed on Keller and he jerked her backwards.

Ellie screamed, struggling to remove herself from his grip.

Casey moved forward, grabbing Ellie and tugging her loose. He pulled her to him, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders.

Keller tried to remain erect, but the dosage in Casey's gun was particularly powerful. It didn't prevent SWAT from adding another dose or two, just to make certain.

SWAT swirled around the room. Two picked up Keller, removing him from the room, while another member escorted Scott out. Just as suddenly as they entered, they exited, allowing the surgical team to take over.

Rather than going out the front with the rest of SWAT, Casey guided Ellie into the now empty ER.

She was shaking as Casey released her.

"It's okay," he said. "You're okay."

She managed a weak nod.

"You helped capture a terrorist and his team today, Ellie. You went above and beyond the call of duty any civilian should have to do. Your country owes you a debt of gratitude."

"I just did my job," she said quietly, looking up at him.

"Devon and Chuck are here. They're beyond eager to see you."

Even in her excited state, she recognized the unspoken reminder. "Don't worry," she said. "Your secret is safe with me, John."

He pulled her watch from his pocket, offering it to her.

She smiled a little, trading with him. Once her watch was fastened back on her wrist and she returned the earpiece, she hugged him, holding onto him tightly for a moment.

It was just as strange and as awkward to him as it was in San Francisco, after he killed Tate. There was no major bloodshed this time, no killing. And, certainly, she'd gotten better at dealing with the pressure since their last adventure. He just wasn't much of a touchy-feely guy.

Missions were different. If he was removing someone from some situation, protecting someone from something, there was a reason for the touch. If it was catching Chuck from falling to his death from the roof or carrying Ellie out of the penthouse, there was a tangible, mission-related reason for it.

"I don't care what your objective is, whatever the reason for your being assigned here," she whispered. "I'm just so glad to know you, so glad you're here. I'm so glad that you're the one on call."

He smiled a little as she finally pulled back, but it vanished into mild shock as she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Ellie..."

Before he could say anything, before he could really respond, Sarah's voice was in his ear: "Chuck and Devon, incoming."

"I gotta go," he said abruptly. He squeezed her arm briefly, supportively before heading down the corridor.

She watched him disappear just as Devon and Chuck charged in. They were both clearly worried, talking and asking questions over each other.

"Are you okay?"

"Were you hurt?"

"What happened?"

"Can you ever forgive me?"

"I was so worried..."

It was worse than when she arrived home from her conference not that long ago.

Their concern was palatable and only served to increase her anxiousness, the anxiousness that she realized had decreased when Casey had been around. She smiled at the both of them, though it took a concerted effort on her part. "Guys..."

Devon and Chuck both quieted.

"I'm fine," she said with a nod. She lied, because she was good at it, good at hiding her pain from Chuck, because she'd never wanted her little brother to see her struggle. She lied because she needed to protect Casey, because they didn't need to know the truth. She looked from Devon to Chuck and back again. "Really."

* * *

Casey climbed into the back of the surveillance van. "You got the General? I want to ride with Keller to the detention center." He glanced from her to the screen, casually, spotting Ellie caught up in the whirlwind that was her brother and her husband.

Sarah glanced over at her partner, nodding. "No problem." He started to climb back down, but Sarah couldn't let him go. "Wait..."

He hesitated, looking back at her.

"What's going on?"

"Mission clean-up," he said. "Tying up the loose ends, putting everything back together again. That's what we do, isn't it?"

"That's not what I'm talking about."

"Walker, it's been a long night, so unless you wanna cut to the chase... Not to mention, I've got a busload of sleeping terrorists to transport."

Sarah watched him for a long moment. She could see the exhaustion, the sleep deprivation. She was surprised he was still standing, really, but it was probably the adrenaline from the mission. "We'll talk tomorrow," she said finally.

He tried to grunt, but it came out more of a sigh. Nodding once, he slipped back out of the van and into the early morning air.

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

"How's Chuck?"

"He's all right," Sarah admitted. "I think he's figured out that there are things that we'll do, from time to time, that will still be above his pay-grade. How's Ellie?"

Casey took a sip of his wine. "She's a lot stronger than Chuck gives her credit for," he said. "Than probably any of us give her credit for."


	6. Chapter 6

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Also... Another very-special thank you to all who have read, reviewed, and subscribed to this continuation of Chuck versus the Paranoia. I'm working diligently on the next story, a preview of which follows this chapter. ~K

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Lester and Jeff drunkenly try to break into Chuck and Morgan's apartment so that Chuck can settle a sci-fi battle for the ages. Devon finds out about Ellie's hostage situation. Team Bartowski learns that the weapon Jennings was working on wasn't so much a weapon but a new means of intelligence smuggling. Casey goes in with the SWAT team to rescue Ellie, while Sarah and Chuck remain in the car. Ellie is rescued and Keller and his team are taken into custody.

* * *

Devon, wearing his blue scrubs, eased into the Orange Orange, glancing around the empty dining room. "Chuck...? Sarah...?"

After a few moments, Chuck appeared from the back. "Hey, Awesome. What's up?"

"Just wanted to say... I know that we've been doing spy lessons and all, but can we put those on hold? After everything that happened today..."

"Sure, buddy. We'll pick back up once things settle down a little. How are you and Ellie?"

"Me and Ellie? Ellie and me, we're..." He nodded, drifting off.

"That good, huh?" Chuck asked with a sigh.

"It has to be... I mean, it will be. It will be fine. Just, not today. She's slept most of the day, which is good. Some nightmares off and on."

Chuck shrugged. "I'd say that's to be expected, after everything."

Devon nodded. "Listen, I gotta go," he said, tugging at his scrubs.

"You're working today?"

"Everybody who was at the ER last night is off the next three days. Lot of doctors are showing support for what's happened. I just want to show my solidarity, my thanks. Not working a full shift, but I'll be there till about seven."

"All right, well... Be careful."

Devon held up his watch. "I got CIA backup, right?"

Chuck smiled, though it never reached his eyes. "You bet'cha." They would be there for Devon but, surely to goodness, nothing else bad would happen, not that day.

* * *

Casey woke slowly. His first instinct, when he saw the sunlight seeping in through the curtains, was that he'd slept clear through the day, the following night, and that he was late for the morning briefing with the General. He scrambled to get out of bed but calmed somewhat when he noted that his alarm clock said four. There was no way that it was four in the morning, given the amount of sunlight. He grabbed his cell phone, calling to check in with Sarah.

"Hey, Casey," she answered.

"Why'd you let me sleep so late?"

"Chuck and I took a vote," she said. "We decided a rested Casey was a better Casey."

He grunted.

"Everything's fine. Chuck was able to decode the key. It belongs to Keller's base of operations, a warehouse just outside of town. CIA's already raided and cleaned the place out. And, turns out Ellie was working on a fake Jennings, who is slated to make a full recovery."

"Which was why Keller's torture didn't work."

"Exactly. Jennings was sending the plans for the smuggling program through the courier who was off to sell to the Ring. Keller was after the intel, to move back into their good graces. Given the team he hired, it's no wonder he was left out of the inner circle."

"So, all's well that ends well."

"Pretty much."

"Thanks." His mood changed instantly as he realized he was supposed to have started his shift two hours ago at the Buy More. "Dammit," he muttered.

"What?"

"Stupid cover job," he said, pulling the infernal green polo from his closet.

"Oh, don't worry. Morgan's filling in for you. You just have to close for him tomorrow in exchange."

The bearded one wasn't so bad after all, Casey decided. "Thanks, Walker."

"Thank Morgan."

"I will."

* * *

Ellie looked at the casserole dish, precariously balanced on the top shelf of her cabinet. She didn't venture into casserole territory often, which was why it held such a position of near neglect, tucked away and all but forgotten.

She should've told Devon to get it down for her before he left. Of course, getting him out the door in the first place had been an act of Herculean strength in and of itself. She'd had to promise to keep the doors locked, to keep her cell phone on her at all times with the nine and the one pre-dialed so all she had to do was hit one more one. The tipping point had been when she'd reminded him that John Casey lived a stone's throw away.

He'd seemed to ease at that, nodding in agreement that Casey would be adequate protection.

Adequate nothing. He'd saved her life twice now in a matter of weeks.

She was desperate for comfort food, for something warm and gooey, for something that would make her feel like she was wrapped in a big, thick quilt. She wanted a casserole. Chicken, carrots, onion, broccoli, cheese, breadcrumbs. She had everything she needed to make it, except for long enough arms to get the dish from the cabinet.

Technically, standing on a chair from the dining room should've given her the sufficient amount of height, but she decided on another course of action. She moved out of the kitchen, easing through the living room, and crossing the courtyard.

She wasn't sure he was awake, but it had been more than twelve hours since she'd seen him last. Theoretically, she could've used the phone, but if he wasn't up, she was certain he would be after she called. Knocking seemed to be the safest way to go.

She was just about to retreat when she heard footsteps nearing the door.

Casey was framed in his doorway, in a pair of blue jeans and a gray tee shirt that clung to him, his hair still damp from a shower. "Ellie..."

"Hey, John, I was wondering if you were awake yet. Of course, the answer, now, would be clear..."

He gave her the tiniest of smiles. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Perfectly fine, just... short."

His smile melted into confusion. "Come again?"

"Could you help me?" she asked, pointing over her shoulder towards her apartment. "Devon's out, I just..."

"Uh... Sure." He glanced past her, his blue eyes making quick work of scanning the courtyard. Satisfied there was no one around to threaten his cover--or, technically, hers--he reached back, grabbing a handgun from the table near the door. It wasn't his usual service weapon, which was still in his bedroom after his shower. But, the backup would be good enough.

She watched as he slid the gun into the back of his jeans, making sure his tee shirt covered it. "Doesn't that hurt?" she asked quietly as they crossed back to her apartment.

"Nah."

"I just think it would be awkward..."

"It's all right, Ellie," he assured her.

She led him into the kitchen, where she pointed to the offending casserole dish.

"This is what you meant by short?" he asked, easily reaching up and grabbing it, careful not to disturb the dishes around it.

"Chuck managed to get all the height, I think." While he offered it to her, she didn't take it yet. "So, I've seen you with a gun, but how skilled are you with a knife?"

"Well, that depends. What are we slicing?"

She nodded to the cutting board, where two medium-sized onions waited.

"So, in addition to being short, you're short-handed in the sous chef department?"

"Trade you work for a home-cooked meal."

"Deal," he said without hesitation as she finally took the dish off his hands.

They worked quietly for a moment, but only a moment. As he expected, she and Chuck were much alike. Silence, for whatever reason, had a need to be filled.

"I taught myself how to cook," she commented idly as she set about washing carrots. "Well, I guess you could say I had teachers. Julia Child, Martha Stewart..."

"In the days before the Food Network," he said.

She smiled. "Yeah. I wanted things to be as normal as possible for Chuck. Our mom left when we were so small, and then Dad just... Dad just checked out. Physically, he was there. Mentally, he was..." She offered a mirthless laugh. "Mentally, he might as well have been on the moon."

He glanced at her. "That couldn't have been easy."

With the carrots sufficiently clean, she picked up the peeler. "Somebody had to be the parent, somebody had to know what to do. Julia taught me the finer points of cooking fundamentals and French cuisine. Martha taught me, not only how to truss a turkey, but what a house is supposed to be like. Cleaning tricks, household tips, what have you. Chuck was just too young to understand any of it. In some respects, I think it's... it was probably better that way, y'know?"

He wasn't sure if he was supposed to say anything, but he nodded.

"I tried so hard to create this normal life for him. Homemade meals, chores, structure... After all, that was what I saw on TV. Mom leaving was..." She stopped in mid-peel. "It was devastating. But I couldn't..." She began peeling again, with renewed vigor. "I couldn't stop. I didn't have the luxury of feeling sorry for myself, of taking the time to grieve over her sudden departure. I didn't have the opportunity, ever, to be a kid again."

Casey abandoned the onions as Ellie decimated one side of a defenseless carrot. Reaching over, he eased one of his hands onto hers, stilling the peeler.

She looked up at him and he could see the brewing rain storm in her eyes.

He didn't ask her why she was bringing all of this up now. He knew why. It was because he had become her secret keeper, whether or not he wanted the job. Because she'd become his, just as unwittingly. Clearly, something had been building, something that needed to be let out. She needed those five minutes, to regroup, to be vulnerable. And she chose those particular five minutes, standing in her kitchen, with him an arm's length away and no one else around.

The tears came slowly at first. She tried to battle them, to fight them back, to prevent them from sliding down her cheeks. But after the first one fell, it was like the dam burst.

He eased the carrot and peeler from her hands, setting them on the counter before pulling her to him.

She held onto him tightly, for all she was worth, letting go of everything, of every ounce of pain from every broken promise, from every failure, from every time she held back her emotions. She sobbed into his chest, wrapped in the protection of his strong arms.

He didn't tell her that everything would be fine. This wasn't a run-of-the-mill crying jag. This was heartbreaking agony she needed to get rid of and no amount of whispered encouragement would've helped. It was excruciating, listening to her, feeling her quake. He held her a little closer, kissing the top of her head chastely.

It was slow, but she eventually calmed down. She didn't pull back from him yet, sniffling as she rested against the now wet spot on his shirt. "My whole life flashed before my eyes today," she told him in a whisper. "I really didn't think that was possible."

"What did you see?" he asked.

"Good things. Bad things. You..."

Without her realizing it, she'd probably summed him up as best as anyone could. He was a patriot, a fighter, a defender of his country. But in doing so, he'd done horrible, heinous things, all for Uncle Sam. "Hmm."

"Things I didn't remember, things I hadn't thought about in a long time." Reluctantly, she eased back from him. "Looks like I owe you some clean laundry."

"Haven't you figured out by now that you owe me nothing?"

"C'mon, you're well on your way to sainthood now. That's twice, you've saved me," she said, drying her eyes.

He cracked the faintest of smiles. "Let's try not to make it three."

She laughed, looking up at him. "I'm just going to have to quit, I think. Everything that happens has been connected to my job somehow. Conference trip, my own ER..."

"I guess terrorists just find you irresistible."

"That would explain so much in my life," she said with a laugh.

For a split-second, Casey wondered if he'd inadvertently revealed too much.

She sniffled again. "Y'know, those onions aren't going to dice themselves..."

He stiffened, snapping immediately to attention and offering her a smart salute.

She had to bite her lower lip from smiling too broadly as she returned to carrot peeling.

* * *

She was curled up on the couch, a glass of wine in her hand, talking quietly with Casey who sat on the arm chair when the door opened and Devon stepped in.

"Hey, babe... C-Casey." Seeing the NSA agent there, Devon immediately thought the worst: "Are you all right, Ellie? Did something happen?"

"John was kind enough to help me with dinner," she said. "There's plenty, so I invited Chuck and Sarah and Morgan. They're all on their way."

The table was already set for six, though two wine glasses were missing, one from Ellie's customary seat and one from the chair to its right.

"Oh, okay," Devon said with a nod. "Everybody at work asked about you." He crossed towards her, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

"I'm all right," she said. There was a knock at the door. "Honey, would you grab that? I need to get dinner out of the oven."

As Devon headed back to the door, Casey stood when Ellie did.

As soon as the door opened, Morgan took a big, deep breath. "Ooh, Ellie, domestic goddess, what is that _heavenly_ smell?"

"Hope you guys brought your appetites," Ellie called form the kitchen.

Morgan made a bee-line for her, to see what, exactly, she'd made. Devon wasn't far behind. After getting a shooing motion from Sarah, Chuck went to check on his sister as well.

"You wanted to talk to me about something yesterday," Casey commented as Sarah moved to stand with him. He hesitated, correcting himself: "I guess, technically, early this morning."

Sarah gave a half-shrug. "I think we were all just a little over-excited this morning. No sleep, lots of tension..."

Casey nodded. "How's Chuck?"

"He's all right," Sarah admitted. "I think he's figured out that there are things that we'll do, from time to time, that will still be above his pay-grade. How's Ellie?"

Casey took a sip of his wine. "She's a lot stronger than Chuck gives her credit for," he said. "Than probably any of us give her credit for."

"Big guy!" called Morgan. "How is this fair? I cover for you, you get to hang out while Ellie creates this _fabulous_ feast?"

"John helped make it, Morgan," Ellie told him.

Morgan blanched. "Is it safe to eat?"

Ellie laughed, which was music to all their ears. After the harrowing night they'd just endured, she was going to be fine.

* * *

End.

* * *

I'm getting pretty good at this spy stuff, I think I can see part of the next story from here...

Chuck versus the Saint

It wasn't just the thud of two people falling onto the ground that made the dance floor part like the Red Sea. It was the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.

Chuck watched as a woman shoved a man off of her in the center of the new clearing. She stumblingly got to her feet, backing away. As the music came to a screeching halt, it was Sarah's breathless voice that made him realize, exactly, what had happened. "Casey?" She sprinted forward as the man tried to stand.

Chuck jumped from the table, following in Sarah's wake.

Casey couldn't remain upright; he fell to his knees then careened back onto the floor. He'd been shot before. He'd been stabbed, tortured. None of his previous experiences came even close to the pain he found himself in.

Sarah stopped briefly at his side, but he waved her on.

Chuck slid on his knees, coming to a stop next to his NSA handler, watching the blood gush freely from the hole in his chest. "You're gonna be fine, big guy," Chuck managed. The words felt thick and they got caught in his throat. As the houselights came up, he pulled his coat off and pressed it to the wound. "You're gonna be fine," he repeated.


End file.
